THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


fVii^,,,: 


'M' 


'^"ditS"' 


■  i*f  ■         'I  ^  ■'*■■' 


^% 


.  V. .-'  •' '. 


Li"^' 


hi'-  "■ 


m^ 


>f\ 


I'M'- 


■f.  :^;,'t>•^.o•. 


•■  » .'«■ 


-^i^^  ''.■,-■  >?--^ 


U^' 


X-'-A 


'm 


■  **^iSK.^ 


^r.^- 


Sftf^^^^r--^ 


Ml 


Z^*^* 


'■^'^f.  -C- 


.-jV'    •■ 

.J2;v•■^■■ 


W^ 


^MEP  <::OLLECTION  /    d 


~V' 


O--^^"    (J—^-^-^     A 


o 


MOHTJI:^ 


OK, 

THE    LAST    DAYS    OF  LEE 

AND  HIS  PALADINS. 

•    FINAL  MEilOIES 

OF  A 

STAFF    OFFICEE    SEEYmG    m    YIEGmiA. 

Fbom  the  MSS.  of 

t 

COLOXEL  SURRY,    OF  EAGLE'S   NEST. 


BY 

JOHIST   ESTE]^    COOKE 

AUTHOR   OF   "SUPwET   OF   EAGLE'S  NEST." 


Neo  aspera  terrent. 


NEW  YORK: 
F.     J.     HUXTIXGTOX    AND    CO., 


459  BROOME   STREET. 
1869. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1868,  hj 

F.  J.   HUXTIXGTON  &  CO., 

In  the  Clerk's  OflBce  of  the  Disrrict  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern 

District  of  New  York. 


McCBEA   &   MlLLEK, 

Stereotypers. 


PROLOGUE. 


OiT  the  wall  over  the  mantel-piece,  here  in  my  quiet  study  at 
Eagle's-Nest,  are  two  crossed  swords.  One  is  a  battered  old 
sabre  worn  at  Gettysburg,  and  Appomattox ;  the  other,  a  Federal 
oflBcer's  dress  sword  captured  in  1863. 

It  was  a  mere  fancy  to  place  them  there,  as  it  was  a  whim  to 
hang  upon  that  nail  yonder,  the  uniform  coat  with  its  stars  and 
braid,  which  Stuart  wore  on  his  famous  ride  around  McClellan  in 
1862.  Under  the  swords  liang  portraits  of  Lee,  Jackson,  and 
Stuart.  Jackson  wears  his  old  coat,  and  his  brow  is  raised  as 
though  he  were  looking  out  from  beneath  his  yellow  old  cadet 
cap.  Stuart  is  seated,  grasping  his  sabre,  with  his  plumed  hat 
resting  on  his  knee.  His  huge  beard  flows  on  his  breast,  his  eyes 
are  clear  and  penetrating,  and  beneath  the  picture  I  have  placed 
a  slip  cut  from  one  of  his  letters  to  me,  and  containing  the 
words,  "  Yours  to  count  on,  J.  E.  B.  Stuart."  Lastly,  the  gray 
commander-in-chief  looks  with  a  grave  smile  over  his  shoulder, 
the  eyes  fixed  upon  that  excellent  engraving  of  the  "  Good  Old 
Kebel,"  a  private  of  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia,  seated  on  a 
log,  after  the  war,  and  reflecting  with  knit  brows  on  the  past  and 
the  present. 

From  this  sketch  of  my  surroundings,  worthy  reader,  you  will 
perceive,  that  I  amuse  myself  by  recalling  the  old  times  when 
the  Grays  and  Blues  were  opposed  to  each  other.  Those  t^o 
swords  crossed — those  pictures  of  Lee,  Jackson,  Stuart,  and  the 
'"Old  Rebel" — you  are  certain  to  think  that  the  possessor  of 
them  is  unreconstructed  (terrible  word  !)  and  still  a  rebel ! 

But  is  it  wrong  to  remember  the  past?  I  think  of  it  without 
bitterness.  God  decreed  it — God  the  all-wise,  the  all-merciful — 
for  his  own  purpose.     I  do  not  indulge  any  repinings,  or  reflect 


10  PROLOGUE. 

with  rancor  upon  tlie  issue  of  the  struggle.  I  prefer  recalling 
the  stirring  adventure,  the  brave  voices,  the  gallant  faces:  even  in 
that  tremendous  drama  of  1864-5,  I  can  find  something  besides 
blood  and  tears:  even  here  and  there  some  sunshine  I 

In  this  last  series  of  my  memoirs  I  shall  deal  chieflj  with 
that  immense  campaign.  In  the  first  series  which,  I  trust  the 
reader  of  these  pages  will  have  perused,  I  followed  Jackson 
through  his  hard  battles  to  the  fatal  field  of  Chancellorsville.  In 
this  volume  I  shall  beg  the  reader  first  to  go  with  Stuart  from 
the  great  review  of  his  cavalry,  in  June,  18G3,  to  the  dark  morn- 
ing of  May  11,  1864,  at  Yellow  Tavern.  Then  the  last  days 
will  follow. 

I  open  the  drama  with  that  fine  cavalry  review  in  June,  1863, 
on  the  plains  of  Culpeper. 

It  is  a  pleasure  to  return  to  it — for  Gettysburg  blackened  the 
sunshine  soon.  The  column  thundered  by ;  the  gay  bugles  rang; 
the  great  banner  floated.  "Where  is  that  pageant  to-day  ?  Where 
the  old  moons  of  Villon  ?  Alas  I  the  strong  hours  work  their 
will.  June,  1863,  is  long  dead.  The  cavalrv  horses,  if  thev  came 
back  from  the  wars,  are  ploughing.  The  rusty  sabres  stick  fast 
in  the  battered  old  scabbards.  The  old  saddles  are  shabby — and 
our  friends  take  them  away  from  us.  The  old  buttons  are  tar- 
nished, and  an  order  forbids  our  wearing  thom.  The  brass  bands 
clash  no  more ;  and  the  bugles  are  silent.  Where  are  the  drums 
and  the  bugles  ?  Do  they  beat  the  long  roll  at  the  approach  of 
phantom  foes,  or  sound  the  cavalry  charge  in  another  world? 
They  are  silent  to-day,  and  have  long  disappeared;  but  I  think  I 
hear  them  still  in  my  dreams! 

It  is  in  June,  1863,  therefore,  worthy  reader,  that  I  open  my 
volume.  Up  to  that  time  I  had  gone  with  Jackson's  "  foot  cav- 
alry," marching  slowly  and  steadily  to  battle.  Now,  I  was  to 
follow  the  gay  and  adventurous  career  of  the  Virginia  Rupert — 
Stuart,  the  Knight  of  the  Black  Plume  !  If  you  are  willing  to 
accompany  me,  I  promise  to  show  you  some  animated  scenes. 
You  will  hear  Stuart  laugh  as  he  leads  the  charge,  or  jest  with 
his  staff,  or  sing  his  gay  cavalry  songs.  But,  alas  !  we  shall  not 
go  far  with  him  ;  and  when  he  leaves  us  a  sort  of  shadow  will 
fall   upon   the  landscape.     From  that  May,  1864,  laughter  will 


PROLOGUE.  11 

seldom  be  heard.  The  light  which  shines  on  the  great  picture 
will  be  red  and  baleful.  Blood  will  gush  on  desperate  fields — 
men  will  fall  like  dry  leaves  in  the  winds  of  autumn. 

The  crimson  torrent  will  sweep  away  a  whole  generation  al- 
most— and  the  Red  Cross  flag  will  go  down  in  blood. 

The  current  of  events  will  drag  us  to  Petersburg,  and  those 
last  months  which  witnessed  the  final  wrestle  in  this  war  of 
the  giants. 

Let  us  bask  in  the  sunshine,  before  breasting  the  storm.  The 
pages  of  blood  and  mourning  will  soon  be  opened — meanwhile 
we  will  laugh. 

In  this  June,  1863,  faces  smile  still,  and  cheers  resound.  Bu- 
gles are  ringing,  swords  clashing,  cannon  thundering. 

Lee's  old  army  is  full  of  ardor,  and  seventy  thousand  rneD 
shout !   "  Pennsyivania  I  Pennsylvania  I " 


MOHTJ  N^; 


OR, 


THE  LAST  DAYS  OF  LEE  AND  HIS  PAUDINS. 


BOOK    I. 

GETTYSBUEG, 


I. 

THE    CAVALRY    REVIEW. 

On  a  beautiful  day  of  June,  1863,  the  plains  of  Culpeper,  in 
Virginia,  were  the  scene  of  an  imposing  pageant. 

Stuart's  cavalry  was  passing  in  review  before  Lee,  who  was 
about  to  commence  his  march  toward  Gettysburg. 

Those  of  my  readers  who  were  fortunate  enough  to  be  pres- 
ent, will  not  forget  that  scene.  They  wiU  remember  the  martial 
form  of  Stuart  at  the  head  of  his  sahreurs  ;  how  the  columns  of 
horsemen  thundered  by  the  great  flag ;  how  the  multitude  cheered, 
brightest  eyes  shone,  the  merry  bands  clashed,  the  gay  bugles 
rang;  how  the  horse  artiUery  roared  as  it  was  charged  in  mimic 
battle— while  Lee,  the  gray  old  soldier,  with  serene  carriage,  sat 
his  horse  and  looked  on. 

Never  had  the  fields  of  Culpeper  witnessed  a  spectacle  more 
magnificent.  The  sunshine  darted  in  lightnings  from  the  long 
line  of  sabres,  lit  up  beautiful  faces,  and  flashed  from  scarfs,  and 


14  MOHUN. 

waving  handkerchiefs,  rosy  cheeks,  and  glossy  ringlets.  All  was 
life,  and  joy,  and  splendor.  For  once  war  seemed  turned  to 
carnival;  and  flowers  wreathed  the  keen  edge  of  the  sword. 

Among  the  illustrious  figures  gazed  at  by  the  crowd,  two 
were  the  observed  of  all  observers — those  of  Lee  and  Stuart. 

Lee  sat  his  powerful  horse,  with  its  plain  soldierly  equipments, 
beneath  the  large  flag.  He  Avas  clad  in  a  gray  uniform,  almost 
without  mark  of  rank.  Cavalry  boots  reached  nearly  to  his  knees ; 
as  usual  he  wore  no  sword ;  over  his  broad  brow  drooped  a  plain 
brown  felt  hat,  without  tassel  or  decoration.  Beneath,  you  saw 
a  pair  of  frank  and  benignant,  but  penetrating  eyes,  ruddy 
cheeks,  and  an  iron  gray  mustache  and  beard,  both  cut  close. 
In  the  poise  of  the  stately  head,  as  in  the  whole  carriage  of  his 
person,  there  was  something  calm,  august  and  imposing.  This 
man,  it  was  plain,  was  not  only  great,  but  good ; — the  true  type 
of  the  race  of  gentlemen  of  other  times. 

Stuart,  the  chief  of  cavalry  of  the  army,  was  altogether  dif 
ferent  in  appearance.  Young,  ardent,  full  of  life  and  abandon,  he 
was  the  true  reproduction  of  Rupert,  said  to  be  his  ancestor.  The 
dark  cavalry  feather;  the  lofty  forehead,  and  dazzling  blue  eyes; 
his  little  "fighting  jacket,"  as  lie  called  it,  bright  with  braid  and 
buttons,  made  a  picture.  His  boots  reached  to  the  knee ;  a 
yellow  silk  sash  was  about  his  waist ;  his  spurs,  of  solid  gold, 
were'  the  present  of  some  ladies  of  Maryland;  and  with  saber  at 
tierce  point,  extended  over  his  horse's  head,  he  led  the  charge 
with  his  stafi",  in  front  of  the  column,  and  laughing,  as  though 
the  notes  of  the  bugle  drove  him  forward. 

In  every  movement  of  that  stalwart  figure,  as  in  the  glance 
of  the  blue  eyes,  and  the  laughter  curling  the  huge  mustache, 
could  be  read  youth  and  joy,  and  a  courage  which  nothing  could 
bend.  He  was  called  a  "  boy  "  by  some,  as  Coriolanus  was  be- 
fore him.  But  his  Federal  adversaries  did  not  laugh  at  him ; 
they  had  felt  his  blows  too  often.  Nor  did  the  soldiers  of  the 
army.  He  had  breasted  bullets  in  front  of  infantry,  as  well  as 
the  sabre  in  front  of  cavalry.  The  civilians  might  laugh  at 
him — the  old  soldiers  found  no  fault  in  him  for  humming  his 
songs  in  battle.  They  knew  the  man,  and  felt  that  he  was  o 
good  soldier,  as  well  as  a  great  general.     He  would  have  made 


THE     CAVALRY    REVIEW.  15 

an  excellent  private,  and  did  not  feel  "above  "  being  one.  Never 
was  human  being  braver,  if  he  did  laugh  and  sing.  Was  he  not 
brave?  Answer,  old  sabreurs,  whom  he  led  in  a  hundred  charges! 
old  followers  of  Jackson,  with  whom  he  went  over  the  breast- 
works at  Chancellorsville ! 

Some  readers  may  regard  this  picture  of  Stuart  as  overdrawn , 
but  it  is  the  simple  truth  of  that  brave  soul.  He  had  his  faults; 
he  loved  praise,  even  flattery,  and  was  sometimes  irascible — but 
I  have  never  known  a  human  being  more  pure,  generous  and 
brave. 

At  sunset  the  review  was  over.  The  long  columns  of  cavalry 
moved  slowly  back  to  their  camps.  The  horse  artillery  followed ; 
the  infantry  who  had  witnessed  the  ceremony  sought  their  bivou- 
acs in  the  woods  ■  and  the  crowd,  on  foot,  on  horseback,  or  in 
carriages,  returned  toward  the  Court-House,  whose  spires  were 
visible  across  the  fields. 

Stuart  had  approached  the  flag-staff  and,  doffing  his  plumed 
hat,  had  saluted  Lee,  who  saluted  in  return,  and  complimented  the 
review.  After  a  few  mon^ents'  conversation,  they  had  then  salu- 
ted a  second  time.  Lee,  followed  by  his  staff,  rode  toward  his 
quarters ;  and  Stuart  set  out  to  return  to  his  own. 

We  had  ridden  about  half  a  mile,  when  Stuart  turned  his 
•head  and  called  me.     I  rode  to  his  side. 

"  I  wish  you  would  ride  down  toward  Beverly's  Eord,  Surry," 
he  said,  "  and  tell  Mordaunt  to  keep  a  bright  lookout  to-night. 
They  must  have  heard  our  artillery  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river,  and  may  want  to  find  out  w^hat  it  means." 

I  saluted,  and  turned  my  horse.     Stuart  cantered  on  singing. 

In  a  few  minutes  he  was  out  of  sight,  and  I  was  riding 
toward  the  Rappahannock. 


IG  MOHUX 


II. 


HOW   I  BECAME  A  MEMBER   OF   GENERAL  STUART'S 

STAFF. 

If  the  reader  has  done  me  the  honor  to  peruse  tlie  first  vol- 
nine  of  my  memoirs,  I  indulge  the  vanity  of  supposing  that  lie 
will  like  to  be  informed  how  I  became  a  member  of  General 
Stuart's  staff. 

"When  oaks  crash  down  they  are  apt  to  prostrate  the  sap- 
lings growing  around  them.  Jackson  was  a  very  tall  oak,  and  I 
a  very  humble  sapling.  When  the  great  trunk  fell,  the  mere 
twig  disappeared.  I  had  served  with  Jackson  from  the  begin- 
ning of  the  war;  that  king  of  battle  dead  at  Chancellorsville,  I 
had  found  mvself  without  a  commander,  and  without  a  home. 
I  was  not  only  called  upon  in  that  May  of  1863,  to  mourn  the  il- 
lustrious soldier,  who  had  done  me  the  honor  to  call  me  his 
friend  ;  I  had  also  to  look  around  me  for  some  other  general ; 
some  other  position  in  the  army. 

I  was  revolving  this  important  subject  in  my  mind,  when  I 
received  a  note  from  General  J.  E.  B.  Stuart,  Jackson's  friend 
and  brother  in  arms.  "  Come  and  see  me,"  said  this  note.  For- 
ty-eight hours  afterward  I  was  at  Stuart's  head-quarters,  near 
Culpeper  Court-IIouse. 

When  I  entered  his  tent,  or  rather  breadth  of  canvas, 
stretched  beneath  a  great  oak,  Stuart  rose  from  the  red  blanket 
upon  which  he  was  lying,  and  held  out  his  hand.  As  he  gazed 
at  me  in  silence  I  could  see  his  face  flush. 

"You  remind  me  of  Jackson,"  he  said,  retaining  my  hand 
and  gazing  fixedly  at  me. 

I  bowed  ni}' head,  making  no  other  reply;  for  the  sight  of 
Stuart  brought  back  to  me  also  many  memories;  the  scouting  of 
the  Valley,  the  hard  combats  of  the  Lowland,  Cold  Harbor,  Ma- 
nassas, Sharpsburg,  Fredericksburg,  and  that  last  greeting 
between  Jackson  and  the  great  commander  of  the  cavalry,  on  the 
weird  moonlight  night  at  Chancellorsville. 


ON     GEN.     STUART'S    STAFF.  17 

Stuart  continued  to  gaze  at  me,  and  I  could  see  his  eyes  slowly 
fill  with  tears. 

''It  is  a  national  calamity!"  he  murmured.  "Jackson's  loss 
is  irreparable!"* 

He  remained  for  a  moment  gazing  into  my  face,  then  passing 
jiis  hand  over  his  forehead,  he  banished  by  a  great  effort  these 
depressing  memories.  His  bold  features  resumed  their  habitual 
cheerfulness. 

Our  dialogue  was  brief,  and  came  rapidly  to  the  point. 

"Have  you  been  assigned  to  duty  yet,  my  dear  Surry  ?" 

"  I  have  not,  general." 

"  "Would  you  like  to  come  with  me  ?" 

"  More  than  with  any  general  in  the  army,  since  Jackson's 
death.     You  know  I  am  sincere  in  saying  that." 

"Thanks — then  the  matter  can  be  very  soon  arranged, I  think. 
I  want  another  inspector-general,  and  want  youy 

"With  these  words  Stuart  seated  himself  at  his  desk,  wrote  a 
note,  which  he  dispatched  by  a  courier  to  army  head-quarters ; 
and  then  throwing  aside  business,  he  bega:n  laughing  and  talking. 

For  once  the  supply  of  red  tape  in  Eichmond  seemed  tem- 
porarily exhausted.  Stuart  was  Lee's  right  hand,  and  when 
he  made  a  request,  the  TVar  Office  deigned  to  listen.  Four  days 
afterward,  I  was  seated  under  the  canvas  of  a  staff  tent,  when 
Stuart  hastened  up  with  boyish  ardor,  holding  a  paper. 

"  Here  you  are,  old  Surry," — when  he  used  the  prefix  "  old  " 
to  any  one's  name,  he  was  always  excellently  well  disposed 
toward  them, — "the  Richmond  people  are  prompt  this  time. 
Here  is  your  assignment — send  for  Sweeney  and  his  banjo!  He 
shall  play  '  Jine  the  Cavalry!'  in  honor  of  the  occasion,  Surry!" 

You  see  now,  my  dear  reader,  how  it  happened  that  in  June, 
1868,  Stuart  beckoned  to  me,  and  gave  me  an  order  to  transmit 
to  General  Mordaunt. 

♦  His  words. 


18  MOHUl^. 

III. 

BLUE   AXD   GRAY   PHANTOMS. 

As  I  rode  toward  the  Rappahannock  to  deliver  Stuart's  order 
to  General  Mordannt,  the  wide  landscape  was  suddenly  lit  up  by 
a  crimson  glare.  I  looked  over  my  shoulder.  The  sun  was 
poised  upon  the  western  woods,  and  resembled  a  huge  bloodshot 
eye.  Above  it  extended  a  long  black  cloud,  like  an  eyebrow — 
and  from  the  cloud  issued  low  thunder. 

"When  a  storm  is  coming,  the  civilian  seeks  shelter;  but  the 
soldier  carrying  an  order,  wraps  his  cape  around  him,  and  rides 
on.  I  went  on  past  Brandy  and  Fleetwood  Hill,  descended  to- 
ward the  river,  entered  a  great  belt  of  woods — then  night  and 
storm  descended  simultaneously.  An  artillery  duel  seemed  going 
on  in  the  clouds;  the  flickering  lightnings  amid  the  branches 
resembled  serpents  of  fire :  the  wind  rolled  through  the  black 
wood,  tearing  off  boughs  in  its  passage. 

I  pushed  my  horse  to  full  speed  to  emerge  from  this  scene  of 
crashing  limbs  and  tottering  trunks.  I  had  just  passed  a  little 
stream,  when  from  a  by-road  on  my  left  came  the  trample  of 
hoofs.  It  is  good  to  be  on  the  watch  in  the  cavalry,  and  I 
wheeled  to  the  right,  listening — when  all  at  once  a  brilliant  flash 
of  lightning  showed  me,  within  fifty  paces,  a  column  of  Hue  cav- 
alry. 

"Halt!"  rang  out  from  the  column,  and  a  pistol-shot  followed. 

I  did  not  halt.  Capture  was  becoming  a  hideous  affair  in  June, 
3  863.  I  passed  across  the  head  of  the  column  at  full  speed,  fol- 
lowed by  bullets ;  struck  into  a  bridle-path  on  the  right,  and 
pushed  ahead,  hotly  pursued. 

They  had  followed  me  nearly  half  a  mile,  firing  on  me,  and 
ordering  me  to  halt,  when  suddenly  a  sonorous  "Haiti"  re- 
sounded fifty  yards  in  front  of  me ;  and  a  moment  afterward,  a 
carbine  ball  passed*through  my  riding  cape. 

I  drove  on  at  full  speed,  convinced  that  these  in  front  were 
friends;  and  the  chest  of  my  horse  struck  violently  against  that 
of  another  in  the  darkness. 


MOHUX    AND     HIS    PRISONER.  19 

"Halt,  or  you  are  dead  I"  came  in  the  same  commanding 
Yoice. 

Another  flash  of  lightning  showed  me  a  squadron  of  gray  cav- 
alry :  at  their  head  rode  a  cavalier,  well  mounted ;  it  was  his 
horse  against  winch  I  had  struck,  and  he  held  a  cocked  pistol  to 
ray  breast. 

The  lightning  left  nothing  in  doubt.  Gray  and  blue  quickly 
recognized  each  other.  The  blue  cavalry  had  drawn  rein,  and, 
at  that  moment,  the  leader  of  the  grays  shouted — "  Charge !"  A 
rush  of  hoofs,  and  then  a  quick  clash  of  sabres  followed.  The 
adversaries  had  hurled  together.  The  wood  suddenly  became 
the  scene  of  a  violent  combat. 

It  was  a  rouorh  affair.  For  ten  minutes  the  result  was  doubt- 
ful.  The  Federal  cavalry  were  apparently  commanded  by  an 
officer  of  excellent  nerve,  and  he  fought  his  men  obstinately. 
For  nearly  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  wood  was  full  of  sabre- 
strokes,  carbine-shots,  and  yells,  which  mingled  with  the  roll  of 
the  storm.     Then  the  fight  ended. 

My  friend  ot  the  cocked  pistol  threw  himself,  sabre  in  hand, 
upon  the  Federal  front,  and  it  shook,  and  gave  back,  and  retreated. 
The  weight  of  the  onset  seemed  to  sweep  it,  inch  by  inch,  away. 
The  blue  squadron  finally  broke,  and  scattered  in  every  direction. 
The  grays  pressed  on  with  loud  cheers,  firing  as  they  did  so: — 
five  minutes  afterward,  the  storm-lashed  wood  had  swallowed 
pursuers  and  pursued. 

The  whole  had  disappeared  like  phantom  horsemen  in  the 
direction  of  the  Rappahannock. 


IV. 


MOHUX  AXD   HIS  PRISONER. 

Half  an  hour  afterward,  the  storm  had  spent  its  fury,  and  I 
was  standing  by  a  bivouac  fire  on  the  banks  of  the  Rappahan- 
nock, conversing  with  the  officer  against  whom  I  had  driven  my 
horse  in  the  darkness. 


20  MOHUN. 

Mounted  upon  a  powerful  gray,  lie  had  led  the  attack  with  a 
sort  of  fury,  and  I  now  looked  at  him  with  some  curiosity. 

He  was  a  man  of  about  thirty,  of  gaunt  face  and  figure,  wear- 
ing a  hat  with  a  black  featlier,  and  the  uniform  of  a  colonel  of 
cavalry.  The  features  were  regular  and  might  have  been  called 
handsome ;  the  eyes,  hair,  mustache,  and  imperial — he  wore  no 
beard — coal  black;  the  complexion  so  pale  that  the  eifect  was 
startling.  More  curious  than  all  else,  however,  was  the  officer's 
expression.  In  the  lips  and  eyes  could  be  read  sometliing 
bitterly  cynical,  mingled  with  a  profound  and  apparently  in- 
eradicable melancholy.  After  looking  at  my  new  acquaintance 
for  an  instant,  I  said  to  myself:  "This  man  has  either  suffered 
some  great  grief,  or  committed  some  great  crime." 

His  bearing  was  cold,  but  courteous. 

"I  recognized  you  as  soon  as  I  saw  you,  colonel,"  he  said,  in 
response  to  my  salute.  "  You  probably  do  not  know  me,  how- 
ever, as  I  have  just  been  transferred  from  the  Army  of  the  West. 
Colonel  Mohun,  at  your  service." 

I  exchanged  a  pressure  of  the  hand  with  Colonel  Mohun,  or, 
speaking  more  correctly,  I  grasped  his.  It  did  not  return  the 
pressure.  I  then  thanked  him  for  his  timely  appearance,  and  he 
bowed  coldly. 

"It  was  lucky  that  my  scout  led  me  in  this  direction,"  he  said, 
"  that  party  is  whipped  back  over  the  river,  and  will  give  us  no 
more  trouble  to-night — the  woods  are  full  of  their  dead  and 
wounded." 

As  he  spoke  he  took  a  cigar  case  from  his  pocket,  and  present- 
ed it. 

"Will  you  smoke,  sir?"  he  said. 

I  bowed  and  selected  a  cigar.  Colonel  Mohun  imitated  me, 
and  was  about  to  commence  smoking,  when  two  or  three  cavalry 
men  were  seen  approaching  through  the  gloom,  apparently  es- 
corting some  one. 

As  they  drew  nearer  the*figures  became  plainer  in  the  fire- 
light.    The  cavalry  men  had  in  charge  a  female  prisoner. 

She  was  a  woman  of  petite  figure,  clad  in  a  handsome  gray 
riding-habit,  and  mounted  upon  a  superb  horse,  with  rich  equip- 
ments, apparently  belonging  to  a  Federal  officer  of  high  rank. 


MOHTTX    AND     HIS    PRISONER.  21 

From  the  horse,  I  glanced  at  the  prisoner's  face.  It  was  a  strange 
countenance.  She  was  about  twenty-five — her  complexion  was 
dead  white,  except  the  lips  which  were  as  red  as  carnations  ;  her 
eyes  were  large  and  brilliant,  her  hair  dark  and  worn  plain  under 
a  small  riding-hat.  In  one  delicately  gauntleted  hand  she  held 
the  rein  of  her  horse — with  the  other,  which  was  ungloved,  she 
raised  a  lace  handkerchief  to  her  lips.  On  the  finger  sparkled  a 
diamond. 

There  was  something  strange  in  the  expression  of  this 
woman.     She  looked  "  dangerous  "  in  spite  of  her  palmness. 

She  sat  gazing  at  some  one  behind  me,  with  the  handker- 
chief still  raised  to  her  lips.  Then  she  took  it  away,  and  I  could 
see  a  smile  upon  them. 

What  was  the  origin  of  that  smile,  and  at  whom  was  she 
looking?  I  turned,  and  found  myself  face  to  face  with  Colonel 
Mohun.  His  appearance  almost  frightened  me.  His  countenance 
wore  the  hue  of  a  corpse,  his  whole  frame  shook  with  quick 
shudders,  and  his  eyes  were  distended  until  the  black  pupils 
shone  in  the  centres  of  two  white  circles. 

Suddenly  his  teeth  clinched  audibly  ;  he  passed  his  hand  over 
his  forehead  streaming  with  cold  sweat;  and  said  in  a  low  voice  : 

"  Then  you  are  not  dead,  madam  ?" 

"  Xo,  sir,"  the  prisoner  replied  tranquilly. 

Mohun  gazed  at  her  with  a  long,  fixed  look.  As  he  did  so  his 
features  gradually  resumed  the  cold  and  cynical  expression  which 
I  had  first  observed  in  them. 

"  This  meeting  is  singular,"  he  said. 

A  satirical  smile  passed  over  the  lips  of  the  prisoner. 

"Our  last  interview  was  very  difterent,  was  it  not,  sir?"  she 
said.  "  The  Nottoway  was  higher  than  the  Rappahannock  is  to- 
night, and  you  did  not  expect  to  meet  me  again — so  soon !" 

Mohun  continued  to  gaze  at  her  with  the  same  fixed  look. 

"No,  madam,"  he  said. 

"You  recall  that  agreeable  evening,  do  you  not,  sir?" 

Mohun  coolly  inclined  his  head. 

"And  you  have  not  seen  me  since  ?" 

"Never,  madam." 

"  You  are  mistaken  1" 


22  M  0 11 U  N . 

"  Is  it  possible  that  I  could  have  forgotten  so  pleasing  a  cir- 
cumstance, madam  ?" 

"  Yes!" 

""Where  and  when  have  I  seen  you  since  that  time  V 

"  Every wliere,  and  at  all  times  I — awake  and  asleep,  day  and 
night!" 

Mohun  shuddered. 

'*  True,"  he  said,  with  a  bitter  smile. 

"You  remember,  then  !  I  am  not  wrong!"  exclaimed  the 
prisoner,  gazing  intently  at  him. 

Mohun  raised  his  head,  and  I  could  see  the  old  cynical  ex- 
pression upon  his  lips. 

"Certainly  I  remember,  madam,"  he  said.  "Do  you  think 
it  possible  for  any  one  to  forget  your  charming  ladyship?  And 
could  any  thing  be  more  delightful  than  this  interview  between 
two  old  friends  ?  But  let  us  reserve  tliese  sweet  confidences, 
these  gushing  emotions!  One  thing  only  is  wanting,  to  ])erfeot 
the  happiness  of  this  moment ;  the  presence  this  evening  of  yoi/r 
dear  hrother  ! — but  he  is  doubtless  detained  els  where  !" 

Mohun's  expression  was  singular  as  he  uttered  these  words. 
The  prisoner  looked  at  him  as  he  was  speaking  with  an  indescrib- 
able smile.  I  can  only  compare  it  to  that  of  the  swordsman 
about  to  deliver  a  mortal  lunge. 

"My  brother,"  she  said,  in  accents  as  soft  as  a  flute;  "  de- 
tained elsewhere,  do  you  say,  sir  ?  You  are  mistaken  in  suppos- 
ing so.  He  commanded  the  cavalry  with  which  you  were 
fighting  to-night !" 

At  these  words,  uttered  in  a  strange,  mocking  voice,  I  saw 
Mohun  start  as  if  a  rattlesnake  had  bitten  his  heel.  With  all  his 
self-possessi'on  he  could  not  restrain  this  exhibition  of  emotion. 

"Impossible!     You  are  deceiving  me — " 

The  prisoner  interrupted  him  with  a  gay  laugh. 

"So  you  do  not  believe  me,"  she  said;  "you  think,  my  dear 
sir,  that  everybody  is  dead  but  yourself!  Dismiss  that  idea  from 
your  mind  !  »/  am  not  dead,  since  we  have  the  pleasure  of  again 
meetins  in  the  flesh.  He  is  not  dead!  Xo!  it  was  Coloujel  Mor- 
timer  Darke  whom  you  fought  to-night.  This  is  his  horse  which 
I  borrowed  to  take  a  short  ride.     I  have  been  captured,  but  he 


STUART.  23 

is  neither  dead  nor  captured,  and  you  will  doubtless  receive  some 
friendly  message  from  Lira  soon." 

Under  the  mocking  accents  and  the  satirical  glance,  it  was  easy 
to  read  profound  hatred.  The  speaker  conld  not  hide  that.  At 
that  moment  she  resembled  a  tigress  about  to  spring. 

Mohun  had  listened  with  absorbing  attention  as  his  companion 
spoke ;  but,  as  on  the  first  occasion,  he  speedily  suppressed  his 
agitation.  His  face  was  now  as  cold  and  unmoved  as  though 
moulded  of  bronze. 

"  So  be  it,  madam,"  he  said;  "I  will  respond  as  I  best  can  to 
such  message  as  he  may  send  me.  For  yourself,  you  know  me 
well,  and,  I  am  glad  to  see,  indulge  no  apprehensions.  The  past 
is  dead  ;  let  it  sleep.  You  think  this  interview  is  painful  to  me. 
You  deceive  yourself,  madam ;  I  would  not  exchange  it  for  all 
the  wealth  of  two  hemispheres." 

And  calling  an  oflficer,  he  said : — 

"You  will  conduct  this  lady  to  General  Stuart,  reporting  the 
circumstances  attending  her  capture." 

Mohun  made  a  ceremonious  bow  to  the  prisoner  as  be  spoke, 
saluted  me  in  the  same  manner,  and  mounting  his  horse,  rode 
back  at  the  head  of  his  column. 

The  prisoner,  escorted  by  the  young  officer,  and  still  riding  her 
fine  horse,  had  already  disappeared  in  the  darkness. 


V. 


STUART. 

An  hour  afterward,  I  had  delivered  my  message  to  Mordaunt, 
and  was  returning  by  the  road  over  Fleetwood  Hill,  thinking  of 
the  singular  dialogue  between  Mohun  and  the  gray  woman. 

What  had  these  worthies  meant  by  their  mysterious  allusions  ? 
How  had  Mohun  found  himself  face  to  face  on  this  stormy  night, 
with  two  human  beings  whom  he  thought  dead  ? 

These  questions  puzzled  me  for  half  an  hour;  then  I  gave  up 


24  MOHUN. 

the  mystery,  laughing.  An  hour  afterward  I  had  passed  through 
Culpeper  Court-House,  crossed  the  fields,  and  had  reached  Gen- 
eral Stuart's  head-quarters. 

Stuart's  tent,  or  rather  the  strip  of  canvas  which  he  called 
one,  was  pitched  beneath  a  great  oak  on  a  wooded  knoll  about  a 
mile  south  of  the  little  village.  Above  it  drooped  the  masses  of 
fresh  June  foliage ;  around,  were  grouped  the  white  canvas 
"  flies  "  of  the  staflf;  in  a  glade  close  by  gleamed  the  tents  d'abri 
of  the  couriers.  Horses,  tethered  to  the  trees,  champed  their 
corn  in  the  shadow ;  in  the  calm,  summer  night,  the  battle-flag 
drooped  and  clung  to  its  staff.  Before  the  tent  of  Stuart,  a  man 
on  guard,  with  drawn  sabre,  paced  to  and  fro  with  measured 
steps. 

A  glance  told  me  that  Mohun's  singular  prisoner  had  arrived. 
A  courier  was  holding  her  fine  animal  near  the  general's  tent, 
and  as  I  dismounted,  three  figures  appeared  in  the  illuminated 
doorway.  These  were  the  figures  of  Stuart,  the  ''gray  woman," 
and  a  young  aid -de-camp. 

"Farewell,  madam,"  said  Stuart,  bowing  and  laughing;  "I  am 
sorry  to  have  made  your  acquaintance  under  circumstances  so 
disagreeable  to  you  ;  but  I  trust  you  will  appreciate  the  situation, 
and  not  blame  me." 

"Blame  you?  Not  in  the  least,  general.  You  are  a  very  gal- 
lant man." 

And  the  gay  words  were  accompanied  by  a  musical  laugh. 

"You  will  have  an  opportunity  of  seeing  the  Confederate  capi- 
tal," said  Stuart,  smiling. 

The  lady  made  a  humorous  grimace. 

"And  of  abusing  me  upon  the  way  thither;  and  afterward  on 
the  route  to  Fort  Monroe  and  Washington,  as  you  will  not  be 
detained,  I  am  sure." 

"I  shall  not  abuse  you,  sir.  You  are  the  noblest  gentleman  I 
have  ever  known."  * 

And  with  mutual  salutes  they  parted — the  young  aid-de-camp 
accompanying  the  lady  to  her  horse,  and  aiding  her  to  mount. 
They  then  set  forward  toward  the  Court-House.  Stuart  had 
ordered  the  prisoner  to  be  conducted  thither,  and  detained  at  the 

♦  The  real  words  of  Stuart's  prisoner. 


STUAPwT.  25 

village  tavern,  under  guard,  until  morning,  when  she  would  be 
sent  to  Richmond. 

As  they  disappeared,  I  entered  the  general's  tent,  and  found 
iiim  laughing.  Leaning  one  hand  upon  his  desk,  covered  with 
papers,  upon  which  rested  his  feather-decorated  hat,  he  care- 
lessly played  with  the  tassel  of  his  yellow  sash  with  the  other 
hand.  His  blue  eyes  sparkled,  and  his  mustache  curled  with 
humor. 

"  That  is  really  a  beauty,  Surry  ?"  he  said,  "  and  I  have  laughed 
heartily." 

He  threw  himself  on  his  red  blanket  as  he  spoke,  and  began 
playing  with  his  two  setter  pups,  whose  names  were  "Nip  "  and 
"  Tuck."     He  had  bronght  them  out  of  the  lines  on  his  saddle. 

"  Well,  you  are  really  a  magician,"  I  said.     "  You  charm  the 
evil  spirit,  and  make  prisoners  laugh." 
Stuart  laughed  in  reply. 

"  That  is  a  curious  person  that  Mohun  sent  me,"  he  said  ;  "  at 
first  she  was  disdainful  enough ;  but  I  paid  her  a  few  compli- 
ments, and  now  she  is  in  an  excellent  humor,  as  you  saw." 
"  Yes." 

"  But  what  about  the  fight?" 
I  made  my  report  of  the  events  of  the  evening. 
"Well,  Mohunis  a  trump,"  said  Stuart.     "A  new  man,  but 
seems  made  of  the  right  stuft^— real  steel.     What  does  Mordaunt 
say  of  the  attack  ?" 
"Only  a  scout." 

"Eight,  and  this  lady  is  our  spoil!  She  is  handsome,  is  she 
not?  But  a  more  curious  face  I  have  never  seen.  White  cheeks 
and  red  lips — a  sort  of  devil  and  angel  mixed  !  Who  is  she,  I 
wonder,  and  what  was  her  errand.  Something  is  under  it.  She 
gave  her  name  as  'Mrs.  Darke,' — and  her  horse  made  me  break 
T;he  tenth  commandment,  Surry  I  Lady  and  courser  are  splen- 
did." 

"She  is  certainly  a  beauty." 
"And  what  eyes!" 
"  Dangerous." 

Stuart  remained  silent  for  some  moments,  and  then  I  heard 
him  sigh. 


26  MOHUN. 

"Do  you  know,  my  dear  Surry,"  he  said,  "that  if  people 
heard  us  talk  in  this  way,  they  would  call  us  libertines — immoral 
— any  thing?  There  are  two  things  that  people  will  not  disbe- 
lieve about  me — that  I  am  impure,  and  a  drunkard  !  Do  you 
know  what  a  good  man  Avas  heard  to  say  of  me  the  other  day? 
'  Stuart  would  be  one  of  the  greatest  soldiers  in  the  army,  if  he 
did  not  drink  so  hard!'*  And  others  add:  'if  he  were  not  a 
libertine.'  "Well,  need  I  defend  myself  to  you^  from  these 
charges?  I  promised  my  mother  in  my  childhood,  never  to 
touch  ardent  spirits,  and  a  drop  has  never  passed  my  lips,  except 
the  wine  of  the  communion.!  I  know  I  need  not  tell  you  that  I 
am  equally  guiltless  of  the  other  imputation.  That  person  does 
not  live  who  can  say  that  I  ever  did  any  thing  improper  of  that 
description.!  And  yet  I  am  a  drunkard — a  libertine — I,  who 
never  touched  drink,  and  love  but  one  person  in  this  world !" 

Stuart's  head  sank,  and  he  uttered  a  weary  sigh. 

"  They  will  not  let  me  alone,"  he  muttered,  "  and  yet  I  am  here 
fighting  for  my  country.  But  I  defy  them  to  take  my  good  name 
away  from  me,  Surry  !" 

And  he  rose  to  his  feet. 

*'  General  Lee  knows  me !  Jackson  knew  me !  I  have  the 
regard  of  the  one,  and  I  had  the  love  of  the  other.  "What  do  I 
care  ?  If  my  children  only  will  not  hear  these  ignoble  charges ! 
One  can  never  hear  them,  Surry — my  beloved  little  Flora!  She 
died  while  I  was  fighting  near  Middleburg  in  the  fall  of  '62 — that 
nearly  broke  me  down — " 

And  Stuart  paused  and  covered  his  eyes  with  his  hand.  Be- 
tween the  fingers  I  saw  a  tear. 

For  a  moment  his  breast  heaved — something  like  a  sob  issued 
from  the  brave  lip,  whereon  the  heavy  mustache  trembled. 

"I  think  of  her  often  —  I  shall  never  get  over  her  death, 
Surry! "the  murmured.  "They  think  me  hard  and  cold,  and 
bad  perhaps — it  is  nothing.  Since  she  died  I  care  less  for  men's 
opinion,  and  only  try  to  do  my  duty,  till  the  ball  comes  that  will 
end  me." 

And  dashing  a  tear  from  his  eyes,  Stuart  walked  to  the  door 
of  his  tent,  from  which  he  gazed  forth  upon  the  stars. 

♦  This  was  actually  said  of  Stuart.  t  His  words. 


STUART'S    INSTIITOT.  27 

Five  minntes  passed  thus,  and  I  did  not  speak.  Then  all  at 
once  I  heard  Stuart  call  out :  "Orderly  !" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  came  from  the  man  on  post  near  the  tent. 

"  Tell  Sweeney  to  come  and  bring  his  banjo!" 

And  walking  fifty  steps,  Stuart  caressed  the  glossy  neck  of 
his  mare  "  Lady  Margaret,"  who  was  tethered  to  a  bough,  and 
looked  around  afiectionately  at  her  master. 

"V^Tien  he  returned  he  was  humming  '*  The  dew  lay  on  the  blos- 
som," and  following  him  was  Sweeney — the  same  old  Sweeney  ! 
— ever  mild,  courteous,  almost  sad,  doffing  his  cap,  saluting  with 
simple  grace,  and  tuning  his  banjo. 

In  a  m'oment  the  tent,  the  wooded  knoll,  the  whole  vicinity 
was  ringing  with  the  uproarious  notes  of  the  mirth-inspiring 
banjo ;  and  Sweeney  was  chanting,  as  only  that  great  master 
could  chant,  the  mighty  epic  of  the  sabreurs  of  Stuart : — 

"K  jovL  want  to  have  a  good  time 
Jine  the  cavalry, 

Bully  Boys,  hey  I  ' 

The  staff  and  couriers  quickly  assembled,  the  servants  were 
grouped  in  the  starlight,  the  horses  beneath  the  boughs  turned 
their  intelligent  heads — and  leading  in  the  uproarious  chorus 
might  have  been  heard  the  sonorous  and  laughing  voice  of  Stuart. 


YI. 

STUART'S    INSTINCT. 


The  festivities  were  kept  up  until  nearly  midnight. 

Then  Stuart  yawned ;  said  with  a  laugh,  "  Good  morning, 
gentle-7n^7i /"  as  was  his  habit  when  he  wished  to  work;  and  the 
tent  was  soon  deserted. 

I  retired  to  rest,  but  at  three  in  the  morning  felt  a  hand  upon 
my  shoulder. 

"  The  general  is  going  to  move,  colonel,  and  wishes  to  see 
you,"  said  the  orderly. 


28  MOHUN". 

I  rose,  made  my  brief  toilet,  and  went  toward  Stnart's  tent 
where  alight  was  shining.  He  was  writing  bnsilj  at  his  desk,  as 
fresh  and  gay  as  on  the  preceding  evening.  His  enormous  con- 
stitution defied  fatigue. 

All  at  once  I  saw  that  there  was  another  personage  in  the 
tent.  He  was  a  young  man  of  about  twenty,  of  slight  figure, 
beardless  face,  and  an  expression  so  shy  and  retiring  that  he 
seemed  ready  to  blush  if -you  spoke  to  him.  He  wore,  neverthe- 
less, the  uniform  of  a  captain  of  artillery ;  and  I  remember  won- 
dering how  this  girlish  and  shrinking  personage,  with  the  large, 
sad  eyes,  had  come  to  hold  a  commission. 

"Captain  Daveuant,  of  "my  horse  artillery.  Colonel  Surry,"  said 
Stuart. 

The  youth  colored,  and  then  with  an  air  of  painful  embarrass- 
ment took  a  step  forward  and  pressed  my  hand.  The  grasp  of 
the  slender  fingers  was  like  the  grip  of  a  steel  vice. 

"Davenant  has  been  on  a  scout  across  the  Rappahannock,  to 
keep  his  hand  in,"  said  Stuart,  busily  writing.  "My  horse  ar- 
tillery boys  do  a  little  of  every  thing — and  Davenant  is  a  wild-cat, 
Surry,  with  a  touch  of  the  bull  dog,  in  spite  of  liis  looks  I" 

Tlie  young  officer  drew  back  blushing  more  than  ever  at 
these  words.  His  confusion  seemed  to  deprive  him  of  the  power 
of  utterance. 

"I'll  bet  he's  blushing  now!"  said  Stuart,  laughing  and  con- 
tinuing to  write  with  his  back  turned,  as  he  spoke.  "  He  is 
blushing  or  sighing — for  the  poor  Yankees  he  has  killed,  doubt- 
less!" 

"You  are  laughing  at  me,  general,"  said  the  young  mnn 
timidly. 

"  Well,  my  laughter  won't  hurt  you,  Davenant.  T  never  joke 
with  people  I  don't  like.  But  to  business.  The  enemy  are  going 
to  attack  me,  Surry.     Get  ready,  I  am  going  to  move." 

"Eeady,  general." 

"All  right !—Hagan!" 

"General!" 

The  voice  came  like  an  echo.  Then  at  the  door  appeared  the 
gigantic,  black-bearded  Lieutenant  Hagan,  chief  of  the  general's 
escort.     Have  you   forgotten  him,   my  dear  reader? — his  huge 


STUART'S    INSTINCT.  29 

figure,  his  mighty  beard,  the  deep  thunder  of  his  tones?  I 
showed  you  the  brave  soldier  in  1861  and  '62.  In  1863  his  beard 
was  heavier,  his  voice  more  like  thunder — when  the  giant  walked 
along  he  seemed  to  shake  the  ground. 

"I  am  going  to  move  in  half  an  hour,  Hagan,"  said  Stuart, 
still  writing  busily.  "  Head-quarters  will  be  established  on  Fleet- 
wood Hill,  beyond  Brandy;  my  horse!" 

Hagan  saluted  and  vanished  without  uttering  a  word.  In  five 
minutes  the  camp  was  buzzing,  and  "  Lady  Margaret "  was 
led  up. 

"Come  on,  Surry!  Come,  on  DavenantI  I  will  beat  you  to 
the  Court-House!"' 

And  Stuart  buckled  on  his  sword,  drew  on  his  gauntlets,  and 
mounted  his  horse.  I  was  beside  him.  Not  to  be  ready  when 
Stuart  was — was  to  be  left  behind.  He  waited  for  nobody.  His 
staff  soon  learned  that. 

As  Davenant's  horse  was  awaiting  him,  he  was  as  prompt  as 
Stuart  desired.  In  a  minute  we  were  all  three  riding  at  full 
speed  toward  the  village.  Stuart  was  playing  with  his  glove, 
which  he  had  taken  off  and  dangled  to  and  fro.  His  brows  were 
knit,  and  he  was  reflecting.  We  did  not  interrupt  him,  and  in 
ten  minutes  we  were  all  clattering  over  the  main  street  of  the 
hamlet. 

Stuart  pushed  on  by  the  tavern,  without  pausing,  in  the 
direction  of  Fleetwood,  when  just  as  he  reached  the  eastern 
suburbs  of  the  town  a  small  one-horse  wagon,  leaving  the  place, 
attracted  his  attention.  There  was  just  sufficient  light  to  make 
out  the  figures  in  the  wagon.  There  were  two.  One  was  a 
portly  and  plainly  clad  old  countryman,  with  a  prominent  nose, 
a  double  chin,  and  fat  hands  decorated  with  pinchbeck  rings. 
Beside  him  sat  an  old  woman,  as  fat  as  himself,  wearing  a  faded 
calico  gown,  a  "coal-scuttle"  bonnet,  and  a  huge  ruflfled  cap 
beneath. 

Stuart  looked  keenly  at  the  wagon,  called  to  the  driver  to 
halt,  and  demanded  whither  he  was  going,  and  on  what  business. 
The  old  countryman  smiled.  The  question  seemed  to  strike  him 
as  absurd,  and  his  explanation  was  simple  and  calculated  to  re- 
move all  suspicion.     He  stated  that  his  name  was  Brown — that 


30  MOHUN. 

he  lived  near  the  village ;  had  brought  in  a  load  of  vegetables  to 
sell,  on  the  preceding  evening — some  friends  had  persuaded  him 
and  "his  old  woman"  to  spend  the  night,  and  they  were  now- 
going  home. 

Stuart  peered  under  the  coal-scuttle  bonnet. 

"And  this  is  your  'old  woman'  myTriend,"  he  said  with  a 
laugh. 

"Jest  so,  sir,"  was  the  wheezy  reply  of  the  fat  old  country- 
man, smiling  sweetly.  "  You  see  she  would  come  along,  sir. 
"Womankind  is  mighty  contrary !" 

"A  profound  sentiment!"  laughed  Stuart,  and  riding  on  with- 
out further  words,  he  left  the  countryman  free  to  proceed  on  his 
way. 

We  crossed  a  little  stream,  rode  on  toward  Fleetwood,  and 
had  nearly  reached  Brandy  when  Stuart  suddenly  reined  in  his 
horse. 

"Do  you  know  I  think,"  he  said,  "  that  I  have  done  a  foolish 
thing?" 

"What,  general?" 

"To  let  that  old  fellow  go  on.     I  don't  like  his  looks." 

"The  old  countryman?" 

"  Yes;  I  wish  I  had  arrested  him — him  and  his  wife." 

"Arrested  them?" 

Stuart  nodded. 

"I  have  an  instinct  about  rascals,  Surry;  and  something  tells 
me  that  I  have  been  guilty  of  an  imprudence." 

"  Was  not  his  explanation  satisfactory  ?" 

"No." 

"  What  could  be  wrong?" 

"Every  thing." 

"And  his  'old  woman,'"  I  said,  laughing ;  "think  of  that 
highly  respectable  dame." 

"Hike  her  least  of  all!" 

"From  "instinct?" 

"If  you  choose." 

"  I  think  your  instinct  misleads  you  this  time,  general." 

"I  think  not." 

"Well,  we  will  see." 


STUART'S    INSTINCT.  31 

And  we  did  see. 

In  two  hours  the  head-quarters  tents  were  pitched  upon  Fleet- 
wood Hill  beyond  Brandy,  and  Stuart  sent  his  provost  marshal 
to  Culpeper  Court-House,  with  orders  to  conduct  the  prisoner 
taken  by  Mohun  on  the  preceding  night,  to  General  Lee,  fur  ex- 
amination. 

x\n  hour  afterward  the  worthy  provost  returned  in  hot  haste 
with  the  astounding  information  that  the  fair  lady  was  nowhere 
to  be  found.  She  had  disappeared  from  her  chamber,  none  knew 
how,  before  daylight,  and  as  a  notoriously  suspected  individual 
who  had  lately  been  hanging  round  the  tavern  had  disappeared 
too,  it  was  probable  that  they  had  gone  off  togetlier.  Upon  this 
point,  a  note  left  by  the  lady  directed  to  "General  Stuart" 
would  probably  give  information.  This  had  been  found  upon  her 
table.  And  the  provost  wound  up  by  handing  the  note  to 
Stuart. 

He  read  it  with  an  air  of  decided  ill-humor.  Then  throwinc: 
it  upon  his  desk,  burst  into  a  laugh. 

"Well,  Surry,"  he  said,  "who  is  right  and  who  is  wrong, 
now?     Eeadthat!" 

And  he  pointed  to  the  note,  which  I  opened  and  read.  It  was 
in  a  delicate  female  hand,  and  ran  as  follows  : — 

"  General  Stuart  will  pardon  the  attempt  his  captive  is  about 
to  make,  to  effect  her  escape.  He  made  himself  quite  charm- 
ing in  their  brief  interview,  but  liberty  is  sweet.  Finding  a 
friend  unexpectedly  in  this  quarter  of  the  world,  I  have  made 
every  arrangement  with  him ;  he  is  a  great  master  of  disguises, 
and,  though  the  travelling  costume  which  I  shall  adopt  will  make 
me  look  hideous,  I  hope  it  will  enable  me,  before  sunrise,  to  pass 
a  private  ford,  known  to  my  friend  alone,  and  reach  the  opposite 
bank  of  the  Rappahannock. 

"  Farewell,  my  dear  general.  If  all  the  rebels  were  like  your- 
self, I  might  change  my  politics.  I  have  but  one  other  friend  in 
your  army — Colonel  Mohun,  of  the  cavalry.  Present  my  regards 
to  him,  and  say  that  we  will  meet  again.'''* 

That  was  all.  I  raised  ray  eyes  from  the  paper,  and  looked  at 
the  general  with  stupefaction. 

"Then  that  '  old  woman  '  was  the  lady?" 


82  MOHUN. 

"Precisely." 

"  And  we  are  fooled  ?" 

"Completely.  They  are  by  this  time  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Rappahannock." 

With  these  words,  Stuart  dismissed  the  whole  subject,  turned 
to  his  desk,  and  in  a  moment  was  busy  at  his  official  writing. 


VII. 

THE  BALL  BEFOPwE  THE  BATTLE. 

On  the  same  evening  I  was  riding  with  Stuart  toward  Cul- 
peper  Court-House. 

"Do  you  know  where  we  are  going,  Surry?"  he  said,  with  a 
laugh. 

"I  can  guess,  I  think." 

"  Try." 

"  To  the  ball  given  by  the  young  officers  to  the  Charlottesville 
belles  to-night." 

"  You  are  wrong,  old  fellow.     I  don't  dare  to  go  there." 

"Don't  dare?" 

"  Well,  that  is  the  word,"  he  replied ;  "I  am  not  afraid  of  the 
Yankees,  but  I  am  of  gossips — above  all,  of  the  valorous  corre- 
spondents of  the  newspapers." 

"I  begin  to  understand  now." 

"  They  are  dangerous." 

"Yes." 

Stuart  cantered  on,  playing  with  his  glove  as  usual. 

"Think  of  Messieurs  the  bomb-proof  critics!"  he  laughed. 
"  They  already  say  I  reviewed  the  cavalry  with  a  wreath  of 
flowers  around  my  horse's  neck." 

"Is  it  possible?" 

"  They  say  so  everywhere ;  and  I  will  tell  you  the  foundation 
for  the  charge.  In  passing  through  the  Court-House  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  review,  a  young  lady  friend  of  mine  ran  out  from  her 
house  and  threw  a  wreath  over  the  neck  of  my  horse.     Well,  I 


THE  BALL  BEFORE  THE  BATTLE.   33 

think  it  is  something  to  be  courteous  in  this  world.  I  did  not 
throw  it  off.  I  thanked  her,  rode  on,  and  only  removed  it  when 
I  got  out  of  sight.  Meeting  General  Lee,  I  told  him  of  it,  laugh- 
ing, and  he  said,  with  a  smile:  'Why  did  you  not  wear  it?'*  I 
might  as  well  have  done  so,  Surrv,  for  vou  see  I  have  the  credit 
of  it.  Why  try  to  be  temperate,  and  pure,  and  soldierly  ?  I  am  a 
drunkard,  a  libertine,  and  a  popinjay!  But  I  care  nothing.  I 
intend  to  do  my  duty,  old  fellow,  and  the  next  few  days  will 
probably  show  if  I  can  fight." 

With  which  words  Stuart  broke  into  a  song,  cantered  on  more 
rapidly,  and  passing  without  drawing  rein  through  the  Court- 
House,  soon  reached  General  Lee's  head-quarters  on  an  eminence 
bevond. 

Here  he  remained  for  an  hour,  in  private  interview  with  the 
commander-in-chief.  Finally,  they  came  out  together.  Gen- 
eral Lee  in  his  plain  uniform,  with  that  sedate  dignity  of  bearing 
which  made  the  gray  old  cavalier  so  superb.  I  had  the  honor  to 
receive  his  salute,  and  to  press  his  hand,  and  then  I  set  out  with 
General  Stuart  for  Fleetwood. 

In  passing  through  the  Court-House  we  observed  the  windows 
of  a  large  building  all  ablaze  with  lights,  and  heard  the  merry 
notes  of  music.     Stuart  drew  rein. 

"I  think  I  will  drop  in  for  a  few  minutes,  in  spite  of  every 
thing!"  he  said.  "See  the  end  of  all  my  excellent  resolutions, 
Surry!" 

And  rapidly  dismounting,  Stuart  entered  the  ball-room.  I  fol- 
lowed. 

If  the  review  was  imposing,  the  ball  was  charming.  Youths 
and  maidens  had  assembled  promptly  at  the  sound  of  music,  and, 
if  I  were  a  poet  or  a  penny-a-liner,  my  dear  reader,  I  would 
compose  a  fine  description  of  the  merry  spectacle.  But  alas  !  I 
am  neither;  and  feel  unequal  to  the  "ornate"  style  of  writing. 
I  am  only  a  battered  old  militaire,  with  a  number  of  great  events 
to  speak  of.  Look  in  the  newspapers  of  that  period  for  an  ac- 
count of  the  assembly. 

Let  me  say,  however,  in  passing,  that  there  was  something  sad 
as  well  as  joyful,  gloomy  as  well  as  brilliant,  in  all  that  echoing 

♦Fact 


34  MOHUN. 

laughter,  and  the  movements  of  these  gay  figures,  on  the  eve  of 
the  bloody  battle  of  Fleetwood.  Girls  were  smiling  upon  youths 
who  in  twelve  hours  w^ould  be  dead.  Lips  were  shaping  gallant 
compliments — soon  they  were  going  to  utter  the  death-groan. 
All  went  merry  as  a  marriage-bell,  and  they  danced  to  the  joy- 
ous music.  Soon  the  cannon  would  begin  to  roll,  and  the  youths 
would  charge  to  that  stormy  music  as  they  danced  to  this. 

I  was  gazing  at  the  lively  assemblage — at  the  undulating  forms 
moving  to  and  fro,  the  gay  uniforms,  the  fluttering  scarfs,  the 
snowy  arms,  the  rosy  cheeks,  when  ray  attention  was  attracted 
by  a  figure  which  made  me  lose  sight  of  all  else. 

It  \vas  that  of  a  young  girl  about  twenty,  tall,  stately,  and 
beautiful.  Iler  dark  hair  was  carried  back  in  glossy  waves,  and 
ended  in  profuse  curls.  Her  cheeks  resembled  blush  roses;  the 
eyes  were  large,  brilliant,  and  full  of  laughing  hauteur;  the  lips 
red,  and  wreathed  into  a  dazzling  smile,  which  was  the  perfec- 
tion of  satirical  mirth. 

I  grow  extravagant;  but  this  young  girl  was  superb.  There 
was  something  queenlike  and  imposing  in  her  movements  and 
whole  appearance.  She  seemed  to  look  down  on  the  crowd  with 
satirical  disdain,  and  the  gay  youths  who  surrounded  her  were 
every  instant  struck  by  the  bright  shafts  of  a  wit  which  spared 
nothing. 

Who  w^as  this  dangerous  beauty,  who  received  the  attentions 
of  the  youiig  officers  with  so  much  careless  disdain  ?  I  asked  that 
question  of  a  friend  and  he  replied : 

"Miss  Georgia  Conway,  a  daughter  of  Judge  William  Con- 
way." 

"Ah,"  I  said,  "the  statesman? — the  successor  of  Randolph  in 
bitter  oratory?" 

"  Yes,  and  yonder  ho  is." 

I  looked  in  the  direction  indicated,  and  saw  an  elderly  gentle- 
man of  small  stature,  with  long  gray  hair,  and  lips  full  of 
benignant  smiles.  He  wore  a  suit  of  black,  and  there  was  some- 
thing courtly  and  attractive  in  every  movement  of  the  slender 
figure.  His  low  bow  and  sweet  smile  were  the  perfection  of  old- 
time  courtesy. 

I  was  still  looking  at  this  gentleman,  whose  fame  had  extended 


1 


THE  BALL  BEFORE  THE  BATTLE.   35 

tlironghout  Yirginia  and  the  whole  South,  when  a  familiar  voice 
near  me,  attracted  my  attention.  It  was  tliat  of  Captain  Dave- 
nant,  the  young  officer  of  the  horse  artillery,  and  glancing  in  the 
direction  of  the  voice  I  saw  him  hending  over  a  young  lady  who 
was  seated  and  conversing  with  him.  She  was  a  girl  of  seventeen, 
with  hlne  eyes,  auburn  hair,  and  a  complexion  as  fair  as  a  lily. 
As  Davenant  addressed  her  in  low  tones,  she  gazed  up  into  his 
face  with  an  expression  of  confiding  aifection.  In  the  eyes  of  the 
young  officer  I  could- read  a  profound  and  ardent  love. 

Turning  to  my  friend  I  inquired  the  name  of  the  young  lady,  in 
turn. 

"Miss  Yirginia  Conway,"  he  replied,  "the  only  sister  of  Miss 
Georgia." 

He  had  scarcely  uttered  the  words,  when  Davenant's  interview 
with  the  young  lady  terminated  in  a  very  singular  manner.  Sud- 
denly Judge  Conway  passed  through  the  crowd,  reached  the  spot 
where  the  young  people  were  conversing,  and  darting  a  glance  of 
positive  fury  at  the  youth — a  glance  which  made  his  eyes  re- 
semble coals  of  fire — offered  his  arm  to  his  daughter,  and  abruptly 
bore  her  away. 

Davenant's  face  flushed  crimson,  and  his  eyes  darted  flame.  He 
took  a  step  as  though  about  to  follow — but  all  at  once  he  stopped. 

Then  from  red  his  face  became  pale.  The  old  expression  of 
sadness  returned  to  his  lips.  "With  head  bent  down,  and  a  faint 
color  stealing  over  his  cheeks,  he  went  toward  the  door,  passed 
through  it,  and  disappeared. 

Before  I  had  time  to  reflect  upon  this  singular  incident,  I  heard 
the  voice  of  Stuart. 

"Come,  Surry!  to  horse!  unless  you  wish  to  remain!"  he 
said. 

"Beady,  general!"  I  replied. 

And  in  five  minutes  we  were  galloping  toward  Fleetwood. 

"A  gay  ball,"  said  Stuart,  as  we  rode  along;  "  but  do  you  re- 
member my  instinct^  Surry?" 

"  Perfectly,  general.  Has  it  told  you  something  on  the  pres- 
ent occasion?" 

"Yes." 

"What?" 


36  MOHUN. 

"  You  have  heard  of  the  famous  ball  at  Brussells,  broken  np 
by  the  guns  of  "Waterloo?" 

"  Certainly." 

"TVell,  I  think  that  this  one  will  prove  similar — that  cannon 
are  going  to  thunder  before  the  music  stops." 

Stuart  had  scarcely  spoken  when  rapid  hoof-strokes  were  heard 
in  front,  and  a  horseman  shot  by. 

"Have  you  seen  General  Stuart?"  said  a  voice  in  the  dark- 
ness. 

"Here  I  am! — what  news,  Stringfellow  ?" 

The  horseman  drew  rein  so  suddenly  that  his  horse  was  thrown 
upon  his  haunches. 

"You  will  be  attacked  at  daylight,  general." 

"Well,— what  force?" 

"  The  whole  Yankee  cavalry,  with  infantry  and  artillery  sup- 
ports." 

"  All  right ;  ride  back  with  me,  and  tell  me  every  thing,  String- 
fellow." 

In  half  an  hour  we  were  at  liead-quarters.  Stuart  dismounted 
and  entered  his  tent. 

"You  see  I  was  right,  Surry,"  he  said  turning  toward  me, 
" and  there  is  something  in  my  instinct  after  all!" 


VIII. 

FLEETWOOD. 


At  daylight  a  long  thunder  came  up  from  the  woods  of  the 
llappahannock.  The  greatest  cavalry  combat  of  the  war  had 
begun. 

At  that  sound  Stuart  leaped  to  the  saddle,  and  rode  rapidly 
toward  the  front.  Fifteen  minutes  afterward  his  head-quarters 
had  vanished.  On  the  green  slope  of  Fleetwood  not  a  tent  was 
visible. 

Is  the  reader  familiar  with  the  country  along  the  Upper  Rappa- 


FLEETWOOD.  37 

hannock?  If  so,  lie  will  remember  that  the  river  is  crossed  in 
Cnlpeper  by  numerous  fords.  The  principal — beginning  on  the 
left,  that  is  to  say,  up  the  river — are  Welford's,  Beverly's,  the 
liailroad  bridge,  and  Kelly's  fords. 

Stuart's  left,  under  William  H.  F.  Lee,  was  opposite  Welford's ; 
liis  centre,  under  Jones,  opposite  Beverly's ;  his  right,  under 
Hampton,  toward  Kelly's ;  and  a  force  under  Robertson  was 
posted  in  the  direction  of  Stevensburg,  to  guard  the  right  flank. 
The  whole  amounted  to  about  seven  or  eight  thousand  cavalry. 

The  Federal  column  which  now  advanced  to  attack  it,  is  said 
to  have  embraced  all  the  cavalry  of  General  Hooker's  army  ;  and 
must  have  numbered  more  than  twelve  thousand  sabres. 

Stuart  rode  on  rapidly  down. Fleetwood  Hill,  and  was  soon  op- 
posite  Beverly's  Ford  where  the  enemy  had  crossed  in  force. 
General  Jones  was  heavily  engaged,  and  the  i^apoleons  of  the  horse 
artillery  were  roaring  steadily.  Every  moment  the  round  shot 
crashed,  or  the  shell  tore  througli  the  woods  about  three  hundred 
yards  in  front  of  the  pieces  where  the  dismounted  cavalry  of  the 
enemy  had  effected  a  lodgment.  They  kept  up  a  hot  fire  at  the 
cannoneers,  and  the  steady  rattle  of  carbines  further  up  tlie  river 
told  that  Lee  was  also  engaged. 

In  face  of  the  bursting  shell,  the  blue  tirailleurs  could  not 
advance ;  and  Stuart  sent  an  order  to  Hampton  to  move  in  and 
attack  on  the  right. 

The  troopers  of  the  Gulf  States  advanced  at  the  word;  their 
dense  column  was  seen  slowly  moving,  with  drawn  sabre,  across  the 
plain  ;  the  moment  of  decisive  struggle  seemed  rapidly  approach- 
ing, when  suddenly  a  heavy  blow  was  struck  at  Stuart's  rear. 

I  had  been  directed  by  him  to  ascertain  if  "  every  thing  had 
been  sent  off  from  Fleetwood,"  and  to  see  that  no  papers  had 
been  dropped  there  in  the  hurry  of  departure.  Going  back  at  a 
gallop  I  soon  reached  the  hill,  and  rode  over  the  ground  recently 
occupied  by  the  head-quarters.  The  spot  seemed  swept.  Not  a 
paper  was  visible.  All  that  I  could  see  was  a  withered  bouquet 
dropped  by  some  young  ofiicer  of  the  staff — a  relic,  no  doubt,  of 
the  last  night's  ball  at  the  village. 

I  had  already  turned  to  ride  back  to  Stuart,  when  my  attention 
was  attracted  by  a  column  of  cavalry  advancing  straight  on  Brandy 


p 


3  MOnUN. 


—that  is,  upon  Stuart's  rear.  "What  force  was  that  ?  Could  it  be 
the  enemy  ?  It  was  coming  from  the  direction  of  Stevensburg ; 
but  how  could  it  have  passed  our  force  there? 

''Look!"  I  said  to  an  officer  of  the  horse  artillery,  one  bat- 
tery of  which  was  left  in  reserve  on  the  hill,  "look!  what  col- 
umn is  that?" 

"It  must  be  Wickham's,"  was  his  reply. 

"I  am  sure  they  are  Yankees!" 

"Impossible!"  he  exclaimed. 

But  our  doubts  were  soon  terminated.  From  the  rapidly  ad- 
vancing column  two  guns  shot  out  and  unlimbered.  Then  two 
white  puffs  of  smoke  spouted  from  their  muzzles,  and  the  enemy's 
shell  burst  directly  in  our  faces. 

The  horse  artillery  returned  the  fire,  and  I  hastened  back 
with  the  intelligence  to  Stuart. 

*'  It  is  only  a  squadron  I  suppose,"  he  replied  with  great  cool- 
ness. "  Go  back  and  get  all  the  cavalry  you  can,  and  charge  the 
guns  and  bag  them !"  * 

It  is  impossible  to  imagine  any  thing  calmer  than  the  speaker's 
voice.  I  knew,  however,  that  the  attack  was  more  critical  than 
he  supposed;  hastened  back  ;  came  up  with  two  regiments;  and 
they  ascended  the  hill  at  full  gallop,  leaping  the  ravines,  and 
darting  toward  the  crest. 

Suddenly  it  blazed  with  staggering  volleys.  The  Federal 
cavalry  had  rushed  straight  across  the  fields  toward  the  hill — 
ascended  its  western  slope  as  we  ascended  the  eastern,  and  met 
xis — coming  on,  in  squadron  front,  they  struck  the  Confederates 
advancing  in  column  of  fours,  and  in  confusion  from  the  rough 
ground — they  recoiled — were  thrown  into  disorder  ;  and  with 
loud  cheers  the  enemy  swarmed  all  over  Fleetwood  Hill. 

The  battle  seemed  lost.  Stuart  was  cut  off,  and  hemmed  in 
between  two  powerful  bodies  of  Federal  cavalry,  supported  by 
infantry  and  artillery. 

All  that  saved  us  at  that  moment,  was  the  "  do  or  die  "  fight- 
ing of  the  cavalry  and  horse  artillery. 

On  the  crest  of  Fleetwood  took  place  a  bitter  and  obstinate 
struggle.     It  was  one  of  those  fights  of  the  giants,  which  once 


*  His  worda. 


FLEETWOOD.  39 


■witnessed  is  never  forgotten.  The  cannoneers  of  the  horse 
artillery  fought  as  savagely,  hand  to  hand,  as  the  regular  cav- 
alry ;  and  the  crest  became  the  scene  of  a  mad  wrestle,  rather 
of  wild  beasts  than  men. 

All  at  once  the  form  of  Davenant  appeared  amid  the  smoke. 
He  liad  come  rapidly  from  the  front,  and  now  threw  himself  into 
the  combat  like  the  bloodhound  to  which  Stuart  had  compared 
him.  His  sad  smile  had  disappeared  ;  his  cheeks  were  flushed  ; 
his  eyes  fiery  ; — leaping  from  his  horse,  he  seized  the  sponge-staff 
of  a  gun,  from  which  all  the  cannoneers  had  been  driven,  and 
ramming  home  a  charge  of  canister,  directed  the  gun  upon  a 
column  of  the  enemv. 

Before  he  could  fire,  a  Federal  cavalryman  rode  at  him,  and 
cut  furiously  at  his  bare  head,  with  the  full  weight  of  his  sabre. 

Davenant  did  not  try  to  draw  his  sword — the  attempt  would 
have  been  useless.  In  his  hand  he  had  a  weapon ;  and  with  a 
swing  of  the  rammer  he  swept  the  cavalryman  from  the  saddle.'" 
He  fell  headlong,  covered  with  blood ;  and  Davenant  aimed  and 
fired  the  charge  of  canister — leaped  upon  his  horse — and  drawing 
his  sword,  plunged  into  the  melee,  his  head  bare,  his  eyes  flaming, 
his  voice  rising  loud  and  inspiring,  above  the  combat. 

It  was  a  stubborn,  a  superb  struggle.  Three  times  the  enemy's 
guns  were  charged  and  captured ;  three  times  the  Confederates 
were  furiously  charged  in  turn,  and  the  pieces  recaptured  by  the 
enemy.*  A  flnal  charge  of  the  gray  cavalry  carried  all  before 
it.  The  Federal  artillery  was  seized  upon,  and  their  cavalry 
driven  back — ^but  at  that  moment  a  heavier  force  still  was  seen 
advancing  upon  Stuart  from  the  direction  of  Kelly's  ford. 

It  was  a  splendid  spectacle.  They  came  on  in  solid  column, 
and  rapidly  formed  line  of  battle  on  the  slope  of  Fleetwood,  with 
drawn  sabres,  and  flags  floating.  As  they  moved  they  seemed 
to  shake  the  very  ground.  I  had  never  before  seen  so  great  a 
force  of  cavalry  drawn  up — and  the  critical  moment  of  the  battle 
had  plainly  come. 

At  that  i^istant  the  great  field  presented  a  remarkable  appear- 
ance. Cavalry  were  charging  in  every  direction,  and  it  was  hard 
to  tell  friend  from  foe.     Stuart  was  fighting,  so  to  say,  from  the 

*  Fact. 
2* 


40  MOHTJN. 

centre  outwards.  The  enemy  were  in  his  front,  in  his  rear,  and 
on  both  his  flanks.  If  they  dosed  in,  apparently,  he  would  be 
crushed  as  in  a  vice.     The  iron  hand  would  strangle  him. 

That  moment  tested  the  nerves.     Stuart's   "  heart   of  oak " 

bore  the  strain.     He  was  aroused,  stung,  his  cheeks  burned,  his 

eyes  flamed — but  the  man  was  sufficient  for  the  work.     I  looked 

.closely  at  him.     "  Do  or  die  "  was  plain  on  his  face.     From  that 

instant  I  never  had  any  doubts  about  Stuart. 

He  rushed  two  pieces  of  artillery  to  a  knoll  in  front  of  the  line 
of  Federal  horsemen.  A  moment  afterward  two  reports  were 
heard,  and  two  shell  burst  x>recisely  in  the  middle  of  the  line,  uja- 
king  a  wide  gap  in  it,  and  checking  the  charge  which  had  begun.* 

All  at  once  I  saw  a  column  of  cavalry  coming  up  from  the 
river,  and  turning  to  Stuart,  said  : — 

"  General,  what  cavalry  is  that  ?" 

"Hampton's!"  Stuart  exclaimed.  "Bring  it  up  like  light- 
ning!"t 

I  set  out  at  full  gallop,  and  soon  reached  the  column.  At  the 
head  of  it  rode  Young,  the  beau  sabreur  of  Georgia,  erect,  gal- 
lant, with  his  brave  eye  and  smile. 

I  pointed  out  the  enemy  and  gave  the  order. 

"All  right!"  exclaimed  Young,  and,  turning  to  his  men,  he 
whirled  his  sabre  around  his  head  and  shouted, 

"  Forward !" 

The  column  thundered  on,  and  as  it  passed  I  recognized 
Mohun,  his  flashing  eje  and  burnished  sabre  gleaming  trom  tlie 
dust-cloud. 

In  live  minutes  they  were  in  front  of  the  enemy — the  men 
wheeled  and  faced  the  Federal  line. 

"  Charge!"  rose  from  a  hundred  lips.  Spurs  were  buried  in 
the  hot  flanks  ;  the  mass  was  hurled  at  the  enemy  ;  and  clashing 
like  thunder,  sword  against  sword,  swept  every  thing  before  it. 
Kot  a  single  shot  was  fired — the  sabre  only  was  used.  The 
enemy  were  broken  to  pieces — what  I  saw  was  a  wild  melee  of 
whirling  swords,  flying  horses,  men  cloven  to  the  chin  ;  while 
others  were  seen  throwing  themselves  from  the  saddle,  and  raising 
their  hands  to  escape  the  keen  swordsmen  slashing  at  them.* 

*  Fact.  t  His  words. 


FAINTS   AT   THE    RIGHT    MOMENT.         41 

The  great  force  of  the  enemy  sweeping  do\vn  on  Stuart's  flank 
was  thns  routed.  The  spectacle  which  followed  was  ludicrous 
as  well  as  exciting.  The  enemy  fled  in  disorder.  Never  before 
had  I  seen  the  nails  in  the  hind  shoes  of  hundreds  of  horses — 
myriads  of  horses'  tails  streaming  like  meteors  as  they  ran  ! 

The  force  disappeared  in  the  woods,  hotly  pursued  by  their 
foes.  The  dust  followed  them  in  a  great  cloud — from  that  cloud 
arose  yells  and  cheers — cannon  thundered  ;  carbines  rattled  ; — 
but  that  sound  receded  more  and  more  rapidly  toward  the  river 

On  our  left  the  brave  William  H.  F.  Lee  had  been  as  successful. 
He  had  charged  and  repulsed  the  enemy,  falling  wounded  at  the 
head  of  his  men.  They  had  not  again  advanced  upon  him.  Near 
the  Barbour  House  he  presented  an  unbroken  front  to  them. 

Stuart  held  with  his  cavalry,  indeed,  the  whole  Fleetwood 
range.     The  long  thunder  of  his  artillery  said  to  the  enemy, 

"Come  on!" 

They  did  not  come.  They  went  back.  Tlieir  cavalry  had 
crossed  the  river  to  ascertain  the  meaning  of  the  great  review. 
They  had  discovered  nothing,  after  heavy  loss.  The  ground  was 
strewed  with  their  dead  and  dying — they  retired,  shattered  and 
bleeding. 

Stuart's  loss  was  also  great — even  his  staff  was  not  spared. 
One  of  my  brother  staff  officers  was  killed,  another  wounded,  a 
third  captured. 

But  Stuart  had  won  the  greatest  cavalry  fight  of  the  war. 


IX. 

MOHUN  FAINTS  AT   THE   RIGHT  MOMENT. 

In  a  room  of  the  "Barbour  House  "  on  Fleetwood  Hill,  Stuart 
was  writing  a  dispatch  to  General  Lee. 

It  was  nearly  sunset,  and  the  red  light  was  streaming  through 
the  windows.  On  the  floor  lay  a  number  of  wounded  men,  groan- 
ing piteously.     Busily  attending  to  their  wants  were  two  young 


42  MOHUN 

girls — the  daughters  of  Judge  Conwaj,  whom  I  had  seen  on  tlie 
night  of  the  hall. 

The  young  ladies,  I  afterward  discovered,  had  been  on  a  visit  to 
the  family  occupying  the  Barbour  House ;  had  courageously  re- 
mained during  the  whole  of  the  battle — and  they  were  now 
busily  attending  to  the  wants  of  the  wounded. 

I  was  gazing  at  the  eldest — the  superb  beauty  with  the  disdain- 
ful eyes,  who  had  held  that  wit-combat  with  her  circle  of  admi- 
rei's — \vhen  Stuart  finished  his  dispatches,  and  turned  round. 

"  Any  reports  ?"  he  said  briefly  to  a  member  of  his  staff. 

"None,    general — except    that    Colonel   Mohun    is    reported 

killed." 

"Mohun!  It  is  impossible!  He  drove  the  enemy,  and  was  un- 
hurt. I  would  not  swap  him  for  a  hundred,  nor  a  thousand  of 
the  enemy!" 

"Thank  you,  general!"  said  a  sonorous  voice  behind  us. 

And  Mohun  entered,  making  the  military  salute  as  he  did  so. 

In  his  bearing  I  could  discern  the  same  cool  pride,  mingled 
with  satire.  There  was  only  one  change  in  him.  He  was  paler 
than  ever,  and  I  could  see  that  his  right  shoulder  was  bloody. 

As  he  entered,  Miss  Georgia  Conway,  who  was  bending  over  a 
wounded  soldier,  raised  lier  head  and  looked  at  him.  Mohun's 
eye  met  her  own,  and  he  bowed  ceremoniously,  taking  no  further 
notice  of  her. 

At  this  exhibition  of  careless  indifference  I  could  see  Miss 
Conway's  face  flush.  An  expression  of  freezing  hauteur  came  to 
the  beautiful  lips ;  and  the  disdainful  glance  indicated  that  her 
amour  'pro'pre  was  deeply  wounded. 

She  turned  her  back  upon  him  abruptly — but  as  Mohun  had 
already  turned  his.  the  movement  failed  in  its  object.  The  officer 
was  looking  at  Stuart,  who  had  grasped  his  hand.  He  winced  as 
the  general  pressed  it,  and  turned  paler,  but  said  nothing. 

"Then  you  are  not  dead,  Mohun  !"  exclaimed  Stuart,  laughing. 

"  Not  in  the  least,  general,  I  am  happy  to  inform  you,"  re- 
plied Mohun. 

"  I  am  truly  glad  to  hear  it !  "What  news?" 

"  Our  party  is  all  over.  We  followed  them  up  until  they  re- 
crossed  the  river — and  I  owed  them  this  little  pieca  of  politeness 


FAINTS    AT   THE  RIGHT    MOMENT.        43 

for  I  recognized  an  old  acquaintance  in  the  ccynmander  of  the 
squadron." 

"  An  acquaintance  ?" 

"A  certain  Colonel  Darke — a  charming  person,  general."  And 
Mohun  laughed. 

"I  recognized  him  yonder  when  we  charged  on  the  hill^  and, 
at  first,  he  followed  his  men  when  they  broke.  As  I  got  close  to 
him,  however,  in  the  woods,  he  recognized  me  in  turn,  and  we 
crossed  swords.  He  is  brave — no  man  braver;  and  he  did  his 
utmost  to  put  an  end  to  me.  I  had  somewhat  similar  views  my- 
self in  reference  to  my  friend,  the  colonel,  but  his  men  inter- 
posed and  prevented  my  carrying  them  out.  They  were  all 
around  me,  slashing  away.  I  was  nearly  cut  out  of  the  saddle — 
I  was  carried  away  from  my  friend  in  the  melee — and  the  un- 
kindest  cut  of  all  was  his  parting  compliment  as  he  retreated 
through  the  river." 

"  What  was  that,  Mohun  ?" 

"A  bullet  from  his  pistol,  which  grazed  my  shoulder.  A  mere 
scratch,  but  provoking.     I  saw  him  grin  as  he  fired." 

"An  old  friend  on  the  Yankee  side?  Well,  that  happens," 
said  Stuart — 

"Frequently,  general,"  said  Mohun;  "and  this  one  was  Tcry 
dear,  indeed — most  tenderly  attached  to  me,  I  assure  you.  My 
aff'ection  for  him  is  of  the  same  endearing  nature :  and  we  only 
crossed  sabres  in  jest — a  mere  fencing  bout  for  amusement.  We 
would  not  hurt  each  other  for  worlds!" 

And  Mohun's  mustache  curled  with  laughter.  There  was 
something  restless  and  sinister  in  it. 

Suddenly  his  face  grew  paler,  and  his  eyes  were  half  closed. 

"Well,  Mohun,"  said  Stuart,  who  was  not  looking  at  him  ;  "I 
am  going  to  send  you  across  the  river  on  a  reconnoissance  to- 
night." 

"All  right,  general." 

And  the  officer  made  the  military  salute.  As  he  did  so,  he 
staggered,  and  Stuart  raised  his  eyes. 

"You  are  wounded!"  he  exclaimed. 

"A  trifle,"  laughed  Mohun. 

But  as  hb  spoke,  his  frame  tottered ;  his  face  assumed  the  hue 


4A  MOHUN. 

of  a  corpse ;  and  he  would  liave  fallen,  had  not  Miss  Georgia 
Conway  started  up  unconsciously  from  the  wounded  man  whom 
she  was  attending  to,  and  supported  the  officer  in  her  arms. 

Mohun  opened  his  eyes,  and  a  grim  smile  came  to  Iiis  pale 
face. 

"A  pretty  tableau!"  I  heard  him  murmur;  "it  would  do  to 
put  in  a  romance.  A  cup  of  tea—  or  a  pistol — that  would 
finish — " 

As  he  uttered  these  singular  words,  the  blood  gushed  from  his 
tt'ounded  shoulder,  his  eyes  closed,  and,  his  head  falling  on  tho 
bosom  of  the  young  girl,  he  fainted. 


X. 

THE    SLIM    AXIMAL. 


Fleetwood  was  the  first  gun  of  the  great  campaign  which  cul- 
minated on  the  heights  of  Gettysburg.  A  week  afterward,  Lee's 
colunms  were  in  motion  toward  Pennsylvania. 

Was  that  invasion  the  dictate  of  his  own  judgment?  History 
will  answer.  What  is  certain  is,  that  the  country,  like  the  army, 
shouted  "Forward!"  The  people  were  ablaze  with  wild  enthu- 
siasm ;  the  soldiers  flushed  with  the  pride  of  their  great  victories 
of  Fredericksburg  and  Chancellorsville.  The  authorities  at  Eich- 
mond  shared  the  excitement,  and  the  commissary-general,  with 
unwonted  humor,  or  in  sober  earnest,  indorsed,  it  is  said,  upon  a 
requisition  for  supplies:  "If  General  Lee  wishes  rations,  let  him 
seek  them  in  Pennsylvania." 

I  doubt  if  the  great  commander  shared  the  general  agitation. 
I  think  he  aimed  to  draw  Hooker  out  of  Virginia,  leaving  tlie 
rest  to  Providence.     So  he  moved  toward  the  Potomac. 

The  world  had  called  Lee  cautious.  After  this  invasion,  that 
charge  was  not  repeated.  From  first  to  last  audacity  seemed  the 
sentiment  inspiring  him. 

With  Hooker  on  the  Rappahannock,  threatening  Richmond, 
Lee  thrust  his  advance  force  under  Ewell  through  the  Blue  Ridge 


THE    SLIM    ANIMAL.  45 

toward  Maryland  ;  pushed  Longstreet  np  to  Culpeper  to  support 
him,  and  kept  only  A.  P.  Ilill-at  Fredericksburg  to  bar  the  road 
to  the  Confederate  capital. 

Hooker  wished  to  advance  upon  it,  but  President  Lincoln  for- 
bade him.     The  dispatch  was  a  queer  othcial  document. 

"  In  case  you  find  Lee  coming  to  the  north  of  the  Rappahan- 
nock," Lincoln  wrote,  "I  would  by  no  means  cross  to  the  south 
of  it.  I  would  not  take  any  risk  of  being  entangled  upon  the  river, 
like  an  ox  jumped  half  over  afence^  and  liahle  to  he  torn  hy  dogs^ 
front  and  rear^  icithout  a  fair  chance  to  gore  one  way  or  TcicTc  the 
other:' 

Ludicrous  perhaps,  but  to  the  point;  the  "Rail-Splitter"  was 
not  always  dignified,  but  often  judicious.  Chancellorsville  had 
been  defeat — Lee's  assault,  foreboded  thus  by  Lincoln,  would  be 
death. 

Hooker  fell  back,  therefore,  in  the  direction  of  Washington. 
Lee  had  foreseen  that  fact,  and  had  given  himself  small  anxiety. 
His  three  corps  were  already  in  full  motion  toward  the  Potomac; 
and  suddenly  the  thunder  of  artillery  came  on  the  winds  of  the 
mountains. 

Ewell,  the  head  of  the  Southern  spear,  was  driving  at  Milroy, 
holding  Winchester.  The  struggle  was  brief.  General  Milroy 
had  put  the  iron  heel  on  the  poor  valley ;  had  oppressed  the 
unfortunate  people  beyond  the  power  of  words — and  suddenly 
the  hand  of  Fate  clutched  and  shook  him  to  death.  Ewell 
stormed  his  "  Star  Fort  "  near  Winchester,  with  the  bayonet ; 
drove  him  to  headlong  flight ;  got  in  rear  of  him,  capturing 
nearly  all  his  command  ;  and  poor  Milroy  scarce  managed  to 
escape,  with  a  small  body-guard,  beyond  the  Potomac. 

"  In  my  opinion  Milroy's  men  will  fight  better  under  a  soldier  /" 

It  was  his  commanding  officer,  Hooker,  who  wrote  those 
words  a  few  days  afterward.  From  the  hands  of  his  own 
general  came  that  unkindest  cut-! 

Exit  Milroy,  thus,  amid  hisses  and  laughter — the  hornet's  nest 
at  Winchester  was  swept  away — and  Ewell  headed  straight  for 
Pennsylvania. 

Longstreet  came  up  rapidly  to  fill  the  gap  in  the  line — Hill 
followed  Longstreet — and  then  the  world  beheld  the  singular 


46  ,         MOnUN. 

spectacle  of  an  army  extended  in  a  lonj  skirmisli  line  over 
a  hundred  miles,  with  another  army  massed  not  daring  to 
assail  it. 

Hooker  did  not  see  his  "opening;"  bnt  Lincoln  did.  One  ot 
his  dispatches  has  been  quoted — here  is  another  as  amusing  an<l 
as  judicious. 

"If  the  head  of  Lee's  army  is  at  Martinsburg,"  Lincoln  wrote 
Hooker,  "  and  the  tail  of  it  on  the  Plank  road,  between  Freder- 
icksburg and  Chancellorsville,  the  animal  must  le  xery  slim 
someichere — could  you  not  hrealc  him  V 

But  Hooker  could  not.  He  did  not  even  try.  Leo's  move- 
ments seemed  to  paralyze  him — his  chief  of  staff  wrote  : — 

"We  cannot  go  boggling  round,  until  we  know  what  we  are 
going  after." 

"  Boggling  round  "  exactly  described  the  movements  of  Hooker. 
He  was  still  in  a  grand  fog,  and  knew  nothing  of  his  adversary's 
intent,  when  a  terrific  cry  arose  among  the  well-to-do  faiTners  of 
Pennsylvania.  The  wolf  had  appeared  in  the  fold.  Ewell  was 
rai)idly  advancing  upon  Harrisburg. 

Behind  came  the  veteran  corps  of  Hill  and  Longstreet.  The 
gorges  of  the  Blue  Ptidge  were  alive  with  bristling  bayonets. 
Then  the  waters  of  the  Potomac  splashed  around  the  waists  of 
the  infantry  and  the  wheels  of  the  artillery  carriages.  Soon  the 
fields  of  Maryland  and  Pennsylvania  were  alive  with  "rebels," 
come,  doubtless,  to  avenge  the  outrages  of  Pope  and  Milroy. 
Throughout  those  commonwealths — through  Philadelphia,  New 
York,  and  Boston — rang  the  cry,  "Lee  is  coming!" 

To  return  to  the  cavalry.  The  horsemen  of  Stuart  were  going 
to  move  in  an  eccentric  orbit.  These  are  my  memoirs^  reader, 
not  a  history  of  the  war ;  I  describe  only  what  I  saw,  and  am 
going  to  ask  you  now,  to  "  follow  the  feather"  of  Stuart. 

Stuart  was  promptly  in  the  saddle,  and  when  Lee  began  to 
move,  advanced  north  of  the  Rappahannock,  drawing  a  cordon 
of  cavalry  across  the  roads  above  Middleburg,  to  guard  the  ap- 
proaches to  the  mountain. 

The  result  was  that  the  infantry  defiled  through  the  Bine 
Eidge  without  Hooker's  knowledge.  He  knew  that  something 
was  going  on,  but  there  his  information  terminated.     The  troop- 


NIGHTHAWK.  47 

ers  of  Stnart  kept  watch  over  fifteen  miles  of  front,  and  tLrongh 
this  wall  of  sahres  the  Federal  eye  could  not  pierce. 

Stuart  is  regarded  by  many  as  only  a  brave  "raider."  It  was 
on  occasions  like  this,  however,  that  he  performed  his  greatest 
services.  Everywhere  he  confronted  the  enemy  in  stubborn 
battle ;  and  the  work  was  hard.  It  was  fighting,  fighting,  fight- 
ing— now,  as  in  1862,  when  he  covered  Lee's  retreat  after  Sharps- 
burg.  Pay  and  night  the  cavalry  had  no  rest.  "The  crack  of 
carbines,  the  clash  of  sabres,  and  the  roar  of  cannon  were  inces- 
sant. It  was  a  war  of  giants  which  Fauquier  and  Loudoun  saw 
in  those  days  —and  not  until  the  rear  of  Lee's  column  had  nearly 
reached  the  Potomac,  did  General  Hooker  by  a  desperate  eflfort 
succeed  in  driving  Stuart  back. 

In  these  pages  I  must  leave  that  obstinate  struggle  undescribed. 
It  was  full  of  romantic  scenes,  and  illustrated  by  daring  courage : 
but  all  is  lost  to  view  in  the  lurid  smoke  of  Gettysburg. 

With  one  scene  in  the  hurrying  drama  I  shall  pass  to  greater 
events. 

But  first,  I  beg  to  introduce  to  the  reader  a  very  singular  per- 
sonage, who  is  destined  to  play  an  important  part  in  the  history 
I  am  writing. 


XI. 

NIGHTHAWK. 


It  was  the  night  of  the  20th  of  June.  1863,  Stuart's  head-quar- 
ters had  been  established  in  a  house  on  the  roadside  above  Middle 
burg. 

We  had  been  fighting  all  day ;  had  returned  only  at  nightfall : 
and  I  was  exchanging  a  few  words  with  Stuart,  before  following 
the  staff  to  rest,  when  all  at  once  a  third  personage,  who  seeraed 
.to  have  arisen  from  the  floor,  stood  before  us. 

His  presence  was  so  sudden  and  unexpected  that  I  started. 
Then  I  looked  at  him,  curiously. 

He  was  a  man  of  about  forty,  thin,  wiry,  and  with  a  nose  re- 


48  MOHUN. 

sembling  the  beak  of  a  bird  of  prey.  His  eyes,  half  buried  under 
bushy  eyebrows,  twinkled  like  two  stars.  His  moutli  was  large 
and  smiling ;  his  expression  exceedingly  benignant.  From  the 
face  I  passed  to  the  costume.  The  worthy  was  clad  in  severe 
black,  with  a  clerical  white  cravat :  wore  a  black  beaver  hat  of 
tlie  "  stove-pipe  "  order  ;  and  presented  the  appearance  of  a  pious 
and  peaceable  civilian — almost  that  of  a  clergyman,  smiling  be- 
nignantly  upon  all  around  him. 

« 

Stuart  uttered  an  exclamation  of  satisfaction. 

"Ah  !  Nighthawk,  here  you  are  !"  he  said. 

And  turning  to  me  he  introduced  the  new  comer  as  "  Mr. 
Nighthawk,  one  of  my  '  private  friends,'  and  true  as  steel." 

^[r.  Xighthawk  bowed  with  an  air  of  smiling  respect — of  be- 
nignant sweetness. 

"  I  am  glad  to  know  you,  colonel,  and  hope  I  may  have  an  op- 
portunity of  being  of  service  to  you  some  day,"  he  said. 

The  voice  was  low,  soft,  and  accorded  with  the  mild  expression 
of  the  countenance. 

"TTell,  what  news,  Xighthawk ?"  asked  Stuart;  "experience 
tells  me  that  you  have  something  of  importance  to  communi- 
cate?" 

"Ah,  general!" 

"Yes.  You  pass  in  the  cavalry  by  the  name  of  the  '  man  be- 
fore the  battle,'  for  you  always  turn  up  then." 

Mr,  jSTighthawk  smiled. 

"I  try  to  give  you  information,  general;  and  perhaps  I  have 
some  news.  But  first  of  my  visits  to  Boston,  New  York,  Phila- 
delphia, and  AVashington,  where  I  saw  many  of  our  friends." 

And  in  his  low,  quiet  voice  Mr.  Nighthawk,  who  had  taken  a 
seat  and  smoothed  down  his  white  cravat,  proceeded  to  speak  of 
his  travels  and  what  he  had  seen. 

The  narrative  astounded  me.  He  spoke  without  reserve,  for 
General  Stuart  had  informed  him  that  he  might  do  so  before  me  ; 
and  I  was  startled  to  find  the  number  of  private  friends  the 
South  had  in  the  N"ortli.  Mr.  Xighthawk  was  evidently  aufait 
at  his  trade.  He  had  a  perfect  understanding  plainly  with  per- 
sons of  the  highest  political  position ;  and  Stuart  listened  with 
the  greatest  interest  to  the  speaker,  whose  low  voice  never  rose 


NIGHTHAWK.  49 

above  the  half- whisper  by  which  I  had  been  impressed  on  his 
first  opening-  his  lips. 

"So  the  summing  np  of  all  is,"  said  Stuart,  "that  our  friends 
are  not  too  hopeful ?"• 

"They  are  not,  general." 

"  They  say  Lee  must  win  a  great  victory  on  the  soil  of  Penn- 
sylvania?" 

"Yes,  general.  "Without  it  there  is  no  hope  of  peace,  they 
declare." 

"Well,  I  think  they  are  right;  and  that  we  shall  gain  the  vic- 
tory." 

Mr.  Nighthawk  made  no  reply;  and  Stuart  reflected  for  some 
moments  without  speaking.     Then  rousing  himself: 

"I  forgot,"  he  said.  "  You  have  not  given  me  your  special  in- 
formation, i^ighthawk." 

The  worthy  smiled. 

"You  know  I  am  the  'man  before  the  battle,'  general? " 

"Yes,  go  on,  Nighthawk." 

"I  have  just  left  General  Hooker's  head-quarters." 

"  Where  are  they  ?  " 

"  Beyond  Centreville." 

"You  saw  him?" 

"I  conversed  with  him." 

"Ah!" 

"An  hour,  general,  as  the  Rev.  Mr.  Ward,  from  Massachu- 
setts, of  tlie  '  Grand  Union  Sanitary  Commission.'  " 

And  Mr.  Nighthawk  smiled. 

"  Of  course  I  urged  active  movements,  and  General  Hooker 
became  quite  animated." 

"He  agreed  with  your  views  then?"  said  Stuart,  laughing. 

"Perfectly,  general. 

"And  he  intends — " 

"There  is  the  important  thing.  While  we  were  conversing, 
General  Hooker  was  called  for  a  moment  out  of  his  tent,  an'd 
by  accident,  my  eyes  fell  upon  an  order  which  lay  upon  his 
desk."  ^ 

"An  order?" 

"Eor  two  divisions  of  cavalry,  one  of  infantry,  and  a  full  com- 


50  MOHUN. 

plement  of  artillery,  to  advance  and  drive  you  back  to  the 
mountain." 

"Ah!  you  saw  that  order?" 

"I  did,  general ;  it  was  just  ready  to  be  sent." 

"What  day  did  it  fix?" 

"To-morrow,  general." 

*  Ah,  indeed !    Two  divisions  of  infantry  and  one  of  cavalry?" 

Mr.  Nighthawk  inclined  in  assent. 

"  When  did  you  leave  Hooker's  head-quarters  ?" 

^'  This  afternoon," 

"And  came  through  the  lines  to-night?" 

"Yes,  general,  in  the  usual  way,  by  passing  through  the 
pickets.     I  was  on  foot  and  nothing  was  easier." 

Stuart  knit  his  brows  and  reflected.  Then  he  called  to  the 
orderly. 

"  Wake  the  adjutant-general,  and  have  three  couriers  ready 
at  once!" 

Mr.  Nighthawk  arose. 

"  By-the-by,  general,"  he  said,  "I  saw  Swartz,  whom  I  have 
mentioned  to  you." 

"Yes  ;  the  best  spy,  yon  say,  in  the  Federal  army." 

"I  think  he  is,  general.  He  is  a  wonderful  man.  He  recently 
played  a  trick  upon  you." 

"Upon  me.?" 

"  At  least  he  bore  off  a  prisoner  from  you.  It  was  a  lady,  cap- 
tured by  Colonel  Moliun,  one  night  on  the  Rappahannock." 

"Ah!  Is  it  possible!  So  Swartz  was  the  old  countryman, 
driving  the  wagon  that  morning." 

"  So  he  informed  me,  general." 

"You  are  friends,  then?" 

"  Close  friends." 

And  Mr.  iSTighthawk  smiled. 

"  We  have  an  agreement — but  that  would  not  interest  you, 
general.  That  was  really  Swartz,  and  the  old  woman  was  the 
prisoner." 

"Well,"  said  Stuart,  "  that  was  a  bold  stroke,  but  the  lady 
was  handsome  enough  to  make  friends.  There  is  something  be- 
tween herself  and  Colonel  Mohun,  is  there  not  ?" 


HOW    STUART    FELL    BACK.  51 

Mr.  ISTightliawk  glanced  quickly  at  the  face  of  the  general. 
Ills  eyes  resembled  steel  points,  but  the  piercing  glance  at  once 
sank. 

"  Something  between  them,  general  ?  What  could  have  made 
you  think  that  ?  But  here  is  Major  McClellan.  I  will  not  detain 
you,  genei-al ;   I  will  come  back  at  daylight  to  receive  your  orders." 

With  these  words,  Mr.  Nighthawk  distributed  a  benignant 
smile,  bowed  in  a  friendly  manner,  and  disappeared,  it  was  diffi- 
cult to  say  how,  from  the  apartment.  I  had  turned  my  eyes  from 
him  but  an  instant ;  when  I  again  looked  he  was  gone. 

"And  now  to  work!"  exclaimed  Stuart.  "We  are  going  to 
fight  to-morrow,  Surry,  since  the  '  man  before  the  battle '  has 
made  his  appearance!" 


XII. 

HOW    STUART    FELL    BACK. 

At  daybreak,  Stuart  was  going  at  full  gallop  to  the  front. 

A  rapid  fire  of  skirmishers,  mingled  with  the  dull  roar  of  can- 
non, indicated  that  Nighthawk  had  not  been  deceived. 

All  at  once  the  sharp-shooters  were  seen  falling  back  from  the 
woods. 

"  Bring  me  a  piece  of  artillery  !"  exclaimed  Stuart,  darting  to 
the  front. 

But  the  attack  of  the  enemy  swept  all  before  it.  Stuart  was 
driven  back,  and  was  returning  doggedly,  when  the  gun  for  which 
he  had  sent,  galloped  up,  and  unlimbered  in  the  road. 

It  was  too  late.  Suddenly  a  solid  shot  screamed  above  us ; 
the  gun  was  hurled  from  its  carriage,  and  rolled  shattered  and 
useless  in  the  wood ;  the  horses  were  seen  rearing  wild  with 
terror,  and  trying  to  kick  out  of  the  harness. 

Suddenly  one  of  them  leaped  into  the  air  and  fell,  torn  in  two 
by  a  second  round  shot. 

"  Quick  work  !"  said  Stuart,  grimly. 

And  turning  round  to  me,  he  said,  pointing  to  a  hill  in  rear  — 


52  MOHUIT. 

"  Post  three  pieces  on  that  hill  to  rake  all  the  roads. " 

The  order,  like  the  former,  came  too  late,  however.  The  ene- 
my advanced  in  overpowering  force — drove  Stuart  back  beyond 
his  head-quarters,  where  they  captured  the  military  satchel  of 
the  present  writer — and  still  rushing  forward,  like  a  hurricane, 
compelled  the  Confederate  cavalry  to  retire  behind  Goose  Creek. 
On  the  high  ground  there,  Stuart  posted  his  artillery ;  opened  a 
rapid  fire;  and  before  this  storm  of  shell  the  Federal  forces 
paused. 

The  spectacle  at  that  moment  "was  picturesque  and  imposing. 
The  enemy's  force  was  evidently  large.  Long  columns  of  cavalry, 
heavy  masses  of  infantry  and  artillery  at  every  opening,  right, 
left,  and  centre,  showed  that  the  task  of  driving  back  Stuart  was 
not  regarded  as  very  easy.  The  sunshine  darted  from  bayonet 
and  sabre  all  along  the  great  line  of  battle — and  from  the  heavy 
smoke,  tinged  with  flame,  came  the  Federal  shell.  With  their 
infantry,  cavalry,  and  artillery,  they  seemed  determined  to  put 
an  end  to  us. 

Stuart  galloped  to  his  guns,  pouring  a  steady  fire  from  the  lofty 
hill.  Captain  Davenant  directed  it  in  person,  and  he  was  evi- 
dently in  his  right  element.  All  his  sadness  had  disappeared. 
A  cool  and  resolute  smile  lit  up  his  features. 

"All  right,  Davenant!    Hold  your  ground!"  exclaimed  Stuart. 

"I  will  do  so,  general."    ^ 

"  Can  you  keep  them  from  crossing  ?" 

"  I  can  try,  general." 

A  whirlwind  of  shell  screamed  around  the  two  speakers.  For 
the  hundredth  time  I  witnessed  that  entire  indifference  to  danger 
which  was  a  trait  of  Stuart.  The  fire  at  this  moment  was  so 
terrible  that  I  heard  an  ofiicer  say : — 

"  General  Stuart  seems  trying  to  get  himself  and  everybody 
killed." 

Nothing  more  inspiring,  however,  can  be  imagined  than  his 
appearance  at  that  moment.  His  horse,  wild  with  terror,  reared, 
darted,  and  attempted  to  unseat  his  rider.  Stuart  paid  no  atten- 
tion to  him.  He  had  no  eyes  or  thought  for  any  thing  but  the 
enemy.  His  cheeks  were  flushed,  his  eyes  flamed — he  resembled 
a  veritable  king  of  battle. 


HOW    STUART    FELL    BACK.  53 

From  Stuart  ray  glances  passed  to  DavenaDt.  His  coolness 
impressed  me  deeply.  While  giving  an  order,  a  shell  burst  right 
in  his  face,  enveloping  horse  and  rider  in  a  cloud  of  smoke — but 
when  the  smoke  drifted  away,  he  was  sitting  his  horse  unmoved, 
and  giving  the  order  as  quietly  as  before. 

I  have  not  invented  this  picture,  reader,  or  fancied  this  char- 
acter. I  had  the  honor  to  enjoy  the  friendship  of  the  brave  boy 
I  describe.  He  Avas  remarkable,  in  an  epoch  crowded  with  re- 
markable characters. 

Stuart  held  his  ground  for  an  hour  on  the  high  hills  of  Goose 
Creek,  but  it  then  became  plain  that  he  was  going  to  be  driven 
back.  The  enemy  had  felt  him,  and  discovered  that  the  game 
was  in  their  own  hands.  oSTow  they  rushed  on  his  right,  left  and 
centre,  at  the  same  moment — cavalry,  infantry,  and  artillery 
rolling  on  like  a  torrent— crossed  the  stream,  charged  the  hill— in 
a  moment  a  bitter  and  savage  combat  commenced  for  the  pos- 
session of  the  crest. 

Stuart  rushed  toward  the  guns.  As  he  reached  them  a  cannon 
ball  carried  off  the  head  of  a  cannoneer,  and  his  horse  reared 
with  fright,  nearly  trampling  on  the  headless  trunk  which  spouted 
blood. 

Davenant  had  coolly  drawn  his  sabre,  but  had  given  no  order 
to  retire. 

"  Move  back  the  guns  !"  exclaimed  Stuart.     . 
"  Is  it  necessary,  general  ?"  asked  Davenant. 
"  Yes,  they  will  be  captured  in  five  minutes!" 
*'  It  is  a  pity  we  can  not  remain,  general.     This  is  an  excellent 
position." 

And  he  gave  the  order  to  limber  up.  The  operation  was  per- 
formed amid  a  hurricane  of  bullets,  striking  down  the  cannoneers. 

Suddenly  a  column  of  Federal  cavalry  charged  straight  at  the 
guns.  Davenant  met  them  with  his  mounted  men,  armed  with 
sabres,  and  a  stubborn  combat  followed. 

It  was  a  hilt  to  hilt  affair,  and  Davenant  was  in  the  midst  of 
it  shouting : — 

"  You  are  fighting  for  your  guns,  boys !  You  promised  to  die 
by  your  guns!" 

The  men  answered  with  fierce  shouts,  and  met  the  enemy  with 


54:  MOnUK. 

savage  resolution.  Meanwliile,  the  guns  had  rnshed  at  a  gallop 
down  the  western  slope;  a  regiment  came  to  Davenant's  assist- 
ance ;  the  fight  grew  desperate,  but  was  of  no  avail. 

In  fifteen  minutes  we  were  driven. 

Driven!  Do  you  know  wliat  tliat  means,  reader?  Ask  old 
soldiers  if  it  is  pleasant.     They  will  growl  in  reply! 

We  were  forced  hack,  step  by  step,  with  the  enemy  at  our  very 
heels.  At  our  backs  came  on  the  huge  column,  yelling  and 
firing,  mad  with  triumph.  Stuart  the  valiant,  the  obstinate,  the 
unshrinking  was  driven! 

We  were  forced  back  to  Upperville,  and  there  things  looked 
stormy.  On  the  other  roads,  Stuart's  right  and  left  were  rapidly 
retiring.  His  centre  at  Upperville  seemed  devoted  to  destruc- 
tion. 

The  enemy  came  on  like  a  whirlwind,  with  a  roaring  shout. 
As  far  as  the  eye  could  see,  the  great  fields  were  dark  with  them. 
Their  horse  artillery  advanced  at  a  gallop,  unlimbered,  and  tore 
the  retreating  columns  with  shot  and  shell. 

I  was  ten  yards  from  Stuart,  just  at  the  edge  of  the  tow^n, 
when  a  picked  body  of  Federal  horsemen  darted  straight  upou 
him. 

They  had  evidently  recognized  him  by  his  major-general's 
uniform  and  splendid  feather.  Bullets  hissed  around  him  ;  blows 
were  struck  at  him;  and  for  an  instant  I  saw  him  in  the  midst 
of  a  wild  huddle  of  enemies,  defending  himself  with  his  revolver 
only. 

In  an  instant  he  would  have  been  killed  or  captured,  with  his 
staff  and  body-guard,  when  a  resounding  shout  was  heard. 

I  glanced  over  my  shoulder,  and  saw  the  cavaliers  of  Hamp- 
ton coming  on  with  drawn  sabre. 

Then  a  splendid  spectacle  was  presented — that  of  Wade  Hamp- 
ton in  one  of  his  great  moments.  This  stalwart  cavalier  was 
leading  his  men,  and  in  an  instant  they  had  struck  the  enemy 
with  a  noise  like  thunder. 

Suddenly  a  cavalier  on  a  black  horse  rushed  by  like  the  wild 
huntsman,  and  I  recognized  Mohun;  who,  spurring  his  animal  to 
lieadlong  speed,  drove  straight  at  the  leader  of  the  Federal  cav- 
alrv,  c'dinost  in  contact  with  us. 


HOW    STUAET    FELL    BACK.  55 

Through  a  rift  in  the  smoke  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  Mohun's  op- 
ponent. He  was  a  man  of  low  stature,  but  broad,  heavy,  and 
powerful.  He  came  to  meet  his  adversary  with  the  bridle  of  his 
horse  resting  on  the  animal's  neck,  while  both  hands  clutched  a 
heavy  broad-sword,  raised  over  his  right  shoulder. 

I  could  only  see  that  the  two  opponents  hurled  together  like 
knights  tilting;  their  swords  gleamed;  they  closed  in,  body  to 
body  ;  then  the  smoke  wrapped  them.  It  was  impossible  to  see 
more. 

For  the  rest,  it  was  hard  to  make  out  any  thing  in  that  bitter 
combat  at  Upperville.  Those  who  witnessed  it  will  bear  me  out 
in  the  assertion. 

For  ten  minutes  the  plain  was  a  grand  hurly-burly  of  ringing 
sabres,  rearing  horses,  pistol  shots,  carbine  shots,  shell  bursting, 
men  falling,  shouts,  outcries,  smoke,  dust,  and  blood. 

When  the  smoke-cloud  drifted,  you  could  see  that  the  enemy 
were  repulsed.  Hampton's  charge  had  checked,  and  then  driven 
them  back.  The  great  Carolinian  had  indeed  made  one  of  his 
most  splendid  onsets.  Meeting  the  enemy  hand  to  hand,  and 
leading  his  men  in  person,  Hampton  had  borne  them  back — they 
had  reeled  under  the  great  blow — and  the  cavalry  fell  back  from 
Upperville  toward  the  mountain,  unpursued. 

What  had  been  the  issue  of  Mohun's  combat  with  the  Federal 
officer  I  did  not  know  until  the  next  day,  when  I  ascertained 
that  Mohun  had  wounded  his  adversary,  and  was  unhurt.  Thus 
he  had  paid  him  for  the  wound  in  the  shoulder  on  the  Eappahan- 
uock. 

Stuart  fell  back  to  the  range  of  mountains  a  mile  below  Paris: 
crowned  the  upland  with  his  artillery,  and  determined  to  retreat 
no  further.  « 

But  the  enemy  had  paused.  The  last  red  rays  of  sunset 
showed  them  stationary  in  the  fields  axound  the  village  of 
Upperville. 


56  MOHUN. 

XIII. 

LEE'S   "OLD   ^VAR    HORSE." 

Stuakt  was  sitting  his  horse  beside  Davenant's  guns,  which 
from  the  slope  grinned  defiance  at  the  enemy,  when  hoof-strokes 
were  heard  from  the  direction  of  the  village  of  Paris,  in  his  rear, 
and  a  party  of  horsemen  ascended  the  mountain. 

In  front  rode  a  personage  of  heavy  figure,  but  soldierly  bearing. 
He  was  clad  in  an  old  gray  uniform,  almost  without  decorations; 
wore  a  black  round-head  hat ;  his  beard  was  long,  matted  and 
brown,  like  the  full  mustache  :  and  the  expression  of  the  counte- 
nance was  calm,  almost  phlegmatic. 

Such  was  the  appearance  of  Lieutenant- General  Longstreet, 
called  by  Lee  "My  Old  War  Horse.-' 

Longstreet  advanced  slowly,  at  the  head  of  a  party  of  officers. 
Beside  him  rode  a  superb  looking  old  cavalier  of  about  sixty.  Ho 
wore  the  uniform  of  a  brigadier-general  of  infantry,  and  sat  as 
erect  as  an  arrow.  The  firm  lips  were  covered  by  a  heavy  mus- 
tache, gray  like  his  hair:  his  bearing  was  full  of  a  courtly 
elegancee  ;  this  man  was  evidently  one  of  the  old  race  of  Vir- 
ginians— a  cavalier  of  the  cavaliers. 

Let  me  add  a  brief  outline  of  one  other  figure.  Behind  the 
old  cavalier  came  a  sort  of  mouse  on  horseback ;  an  urchin  of 
about  twelve,  blue  eyes,  auburn  hair,  long  and  curling  like  a  girl's, 
and  an  air  of  warlike  pride.  The  mouse  wore  a  braided  jacket, 
a  little  jaunty  cap,  a  floating  feather,  and  beautiful  gauntlets 
probably  worked  by  his  mother,  as  he  seemed  much  too  small 
to  possess  a  sweetheart.  He  rode  jauntily  among  the  officers, 
exchanging  jests  with  each  and  all :  and  it  was  easy  to  see  that 
the  youth  was  a  favorite  and  a  privileged  character. 

Longstreet  halted  beside  Stuart,  and  grasping  his  hand,  con- 
versed with  him  for  some  moments.  I  afterward  knew  that  the 
heavy  firing  had  been  heard  over  the  mountain,  and  Longstreet, 
arresting  his  march,  had  occupied  Ashby's  Gap.  Erom  our  lofty 
position,  indeed,  we  could  see  the  bayonets  of  his  infantry  glit- 
tering in  the  gorge. 


LEE'S    '-OLD    WAE    HORSE."  57 

All  at  once,  Longstreet  turning  to  the  gray-lieaded  officer,  witli 
a  brief  apology  for  Lis  remissness,  introduced  him  to  Stuart  as 
"General  Davenant." 

Stuart  saluted,  and  exchanged  a  pressure  of  the  hand  ^ith  the 
courtly  old  officer. 

"Your  son,  Will,  has  fought  like  a  hero  to-day,  general,"  he  said. 

The  old  cavalier  bowed. 

"Those  words  are  worth  another  grade  of  rank,  general,"  he 
replied. 

As  he  spoke,  "Will  Davenant  came  up  and  greeted  his  father 
with  blushing  pleasure.  Before  he  could  speak,  however,  the 
"urchin  in  the  braided  jacket  spurred  forward,  and  threw  his  arms 
around  the  voung  man's  neck. 

"How  are  you,  Willie!"  he  exclaimed,  "have  you  had  a  good 
fight  ?  We  were  waiting  yonder  to  help  you  if  you  were  driven 
back,  old  fellow!" 

Longstreet  smiled.     Will  Davenant  laughed,  and  said  : — 

"  Glad  to  hear  it,  Charley." 

"  We  don't  think  much  of  the  cavalry,  you  know,"  said  the 
urchin,  sotto  xoce^  "it  takes  the  infants  to  do  the  work — but  old 
Stuart  is  a  trump !" 

And  Charley  curled  an  imaginary  mustache  as  his  brother 
turned  to  speak  to  his  father. 

Half  an  hour  afterward  Stuart  and  Longstreet  had  finished 
their  conversation,  and  exchanging  a  grasp  of  the  hand,  separated 
— the  latter  to  return  to  Ashby's  Gap. 

Charley  Davenant  followed  last,  with  evident  regret. 

"Well,  good-bye,  Willie,"  he  said,  throwing  his  arm  around 
his  brother  again,  "  take  care  of  yourself,  old  fellow,  and  if  you 
are  hard  pressed  call  upon  us.     You  will  find  the  infanjts  ready  1" 

"All  right,  Charley!" 

"And  I  say,  Willie"— 

"What,  Charlev?" 

"Remember  that  lieutenancy  you  promised  me.  I  am  a  Dave- 
nant you  know — and  the  Davenants  are  born  to  command  !  My 
motto  is,  "  Victory  or  Death,"  old  fellow  !" 

With  which  words  the  mouse  waved  his  hand,  put  spur  to  his 
pony,  and  went  at  a  gallop  down  the  mountain. 


58  MOHUN. 

XIY. 

MOSBY   COMES  TO   STUART'S  ASSISTANCE. 

Sore  and  restive  at  the  reverse  -which  had  come  to  balance  his 
victory  of  Fleetwood,  Stuart  bivouacked  near  Paris,  that  night, 
and  made  every  preparation  to  attack  at  dawn. 

At  daylight  he  was  in  the  saddle,  and  spurred  to  the  high 
ground  commanding  Upperville. 

All  at  once  he  checked  his  horse.     The  enemy  liad  disappeared. 

Stuart's  blue  eye  flashed,  and  half  an  hour  afterward  he  was 
advancing  at  the  head  of  his  cavalry.  ls"ot  a  foe  was  visible. 
Pressing  on  through  Upperville,  and  over  the  trampled  fields 
beyond,  he  continued  to  advance  npon  Middleburg,  and  near  that 
place  came  np  with  the  rear  of  the  enemy.  They  showed  little 
light,  however,  and  were  driven  beyond  the  place.  The  gray 
troopers  pursued  them  with  shouts  and  clieers — with  which  were 
mingled  cries  of  rejoicing  from  the  people  of  Middleburg. 

An  hour  afterward  the  lines  were  re-established  in  triumph. 

Stuart  returned  to  his  former  head-quarters  amid  a  drenching 
rain  ;  and  this  recalls  an  incident  verv  honorable  to  the  brave 
soldier.  As  night  descended,  dark  and  stormy,  Stuart  gazed 
gloomily  at  the  torrents  of  rain  falling. 

*  My  poor  fellows!"  he  said,  with  a  sigh,  "they  will  have  a 
hard  time  to-night." 

Then  suddenly  turning  to  his  servant,  he  added : — 

"  Spread  my  oil-oloth  and  blankets  under  that  apple  tree 
yonder.  I  will  keep  them  dry  enough  when  I  once  get  into 
them."* 

"You  are  not  going  to  sleep  out  on  such  anight,  general!" 
exclaimed  a  staflT  officer. 

"  Certainly  I  am,"  was  his  reply,  "  I  don't  intend  to  fare  better 
than  my  men  I"* 

And  an  hour  afterward  Stuart  wag  asleep  under  the  apple- 
tree,  with  a  torrent  pouring  on  him. 

*  His  words. 


THE  SUPPER  NEAR  BUCKLAND.    59 

That  was  the  act  of  a  good  ofiicer  and  soldier,  was  it  not 
reader  ? 

Before  sunrise  Stuart  was  up,  and  walking  uneasily  to  and  fro. 
As  the  day  wore  on,  he  exhibited  more  and  more  impatience. 
All  at  once,  at  the  appearance  of  an  officer,  approaching  rapidly 
from  the  front,  he  uttered  an  exclamation  of  pleasure. 

"  Here  is  Mosby  at  last !"  he  said. 

And  he  went  to  meet  the  new-comer.  It  was  the  famous  chief 
of  partisans  whose  name  by  this  time  had  become  a  terror  to  the 
enemy.  He  wore  a  plain  gray  uniform,  a  brace  of  revolvers  in  a 
swaying  belt,  rode  a  spirited  gray  mare,  and  I  recognized  at 
once  the  roving  glance,  and  satirical  smile  which  had  struck  me 
on  that  night  when  he  rescued  Farley  and  myself  in  Fauquier. 

Stuart  rapidly  drew  him  into  a  private  apartment ;  remained 
in  consultation  with  him  for  half  an  hour ;  and  then  came  forth, 
with  a  smile  of  evident  satisfaction. 

Mosby's  intelligence  must  have  pleased  him.  It  at  least  dis- 
pelled his  gloom. 

An  hour  afterward  his  head-quarters  had  disappeared— every 
thing  was  sent  toward  the  mountains.  Stuart  set  out  apparently 
to  follow  them—but  that  was  only  a  ruse  to  blind  busybodies. 

A  quarter  of  a  mile  from  head-quarters  he  leaped  a  fence,  and 
doubled  back,  going  in  the  direction  now  of  Manassas. 

At  daylight  on  the  next  morning  he  had  forced  his  way 
through  the  Bull  Run  mountain. 

Two  hours  afterward  he  had  made  a  sudden  attack  on  the 
enemy's  infantry.  It  was  the  rear  of  Hancock's  corps,  which 
was  the  rear  of  Hooker's  army,  then  retiring  toward  the  Potomac. 


xy. 

THE   SUPPER  NEAR  BUCKLAKDS. 

Stuaet's  fight  near  Ilaymarket,  here  alluded  to,  was  a*  gay 
affair ;  but  I  pass  over  it,  to  a  scene  still  gayer  and  decidedly 
more  pleasant. 


60  Monui^. 

The  fighting  continuetl  throughout  tlie  day,  and  at  dusk  a 
heavy  rain  came  on.  We  were  all  tired  and  liungry — the  general 
no  less  so  tlian  his  staff — and  when  an  invitation  was  sent  to  us 
by  a  gentleman  near  Bucldands,  to  come  and  sup  with  liiin,  we 
accepted  it  with  fervor,  and  hastened  toward  the  friendly 
mansion. 

A  delightful  reception  awaited  us.  The  house  was  full  of 
young  ladies,  passionately  devoted  to  "  rebels,"  and  we  were 
greeted  with  an  enthusiasm  which  passed  all  bounds.  Delicate 
liands  pressed  our  own;  bright  eyes  beamed  upon  us;  rosy  lips 
smiled;  musical  voices  said  "welcome I" — and  soon  a  savory 
odor,  pervading  the  mansion,  indicated  that  the  wants  of  the 
inner  man  were  not  forgotten. 

An  excellent  sui)per  was  plainly  in  preparation  for  the  bold 
Stuart  and.  his  military  family  ;  and  that  gay  and  gallant  cava- 
lier, General  Fitz  Lee  having  also  been  invited,  the  joy  of  the 
occasion  w^as  complete!  The  house  rang  with  clashing  heels, 
rattling  sabres,  and  clanking  spurs.  A  more  charming  sound 
still,  however,  was  that  made  by  jingling  keys  and  rattling  china, 
and  knives  and  forks.  All  was  joy  and  uproar:  jests,  compli- 
ments and  laughter.  Young  ladies  went  and  came ;  the  odors 
grew  more  inviting.  In  ten  minutes  the  door  of  a  large  apart- 
ment opposite  the  drawing-room  was  thrown  open,  and  a  mag- 
nificent, an  enthralling  spectacle  was  revealed  to  every  eye. 

Not  to  be  carried  away,  however,  by  enthusiasm,  I  will  simply 
say  that  we  saw  before  us  a  long  mahogany  table  covered  with 
the  most  appetizing  viands — broils,  roasts,  stews,  bread  of  every 
variety,  and  real  coffee  and  tea  in  real  silver!  That  magical 
spectacle  still  dwells  in  my  memory,  reader,  though  the  fact  may 
lower  me  in  your  good  opinion.  But  alasl  we  are  all  "weak 
creatures."  The  most  poetical  grow  hungry.  We  remember 
our  heroic  performances  in  the  great  civil  war — but  ask  old 
soldiers  if  these  recollections  are  not  the  most  vivid  ! 

An  incident  connected  with  the  repast  made  it  especially  mem- 
orable. The  servants  of  the  house  had  deserted  to  their  friends  in 
blue,;  and  as  there  was  thus  a  deficiency  of  attendants,  the  young 
ladies  took  their  places.  Behind  every  chair  stood  a  maiden — 
their  faces  wreathed  with  smiles.     "We  were  shown  to  our  seats, 


THE    SUPPER    NEAR    BUCKLANDS.         61 

amid  joyous  laughter.  The  comedy  evidently  afforded  all  en- 
gao-ed  in  it  immense  enjoyment — and  the  cavaliers  humoring 
the  angelic  maid-servants,  gravely  advanced  toward  the  table. 

Stuart  threw  his  plumed  hat  upon  a  chair,  and  drew  near  the 
foot  of  the  table.  The  light  fell  full  on  the  ruddy  face,  the 
heavy  beard  and  mustache,  and  brilliant  fighting  jacket.  He 
looked  round  with  a  gay  smile.  "Was  anyone  absent,"  asked 
the  kind  lady  of  the  house,  as  she  saw  the  glance-  Stuart  made 
a  low  bow,  and  said : — 

"  All  are  here,  madam]" 

All  at  once,  however,  a  voice  at  the  door  responded : — 

"  I  think  you  are  mistaken,  general  1" 

And  he  who  had  uttered  these  words  advanced  into  the  apart- 

ruenL 

He  was  a  young  man,  about  twenty-three,  of  medium  height, 
graceful,  and  with  a  smile  of  charming  good  humor  upon  the 
lips.  His  hair  was  light  and  curling  :  his  eyes  blue :  his  lips 
shaded  bj  a  slender  mustache.  His  uniform  v*-as  bran  new,  and 
decorated  with  the  braid  of  a  lieutenant.  Yellow  gauntlets 
reached  his  elbow,  he  wore  a  shiny  new  satchel,  and  in  his  hand 
carried  a  brown  felt  hat,  caught  up  with  a  golden  stai-- 

Stuart  grasped  his  hand  warmly. 

*'  Here  vou  are,  old  fellow  !"  he  exclaimed- 

And  turning  to  the  company,  he  added  : — 

*'My  new  aid-de-camp,  Lieutenant  Herbert,  ladies.     A  fop — 
but  an  old  soldier.     Take  that  seat  by  Colonel  Surry,  Torn." 

And  every  one  sat  dowa,  and  attacked  the  supper. 

I  had  shaken  hands  with  Tom  Herbert,  who  was  far  from  being 
a  stranger  to  me,  as  I  had  met  him  frequently  in  the  drawing- 
rooms  of  Richmond  before  the  war.  He  was  a  fop,  but  the  most 
charming  of  fops,  when  I  first  knew  him.  He  wore  brilliant 
waistcoats,  variegated  scarfs,  diamond  studs,  and  straw-colored 
kid  gloves.  In  his  hand  he  used  to  flourish  an  ivory-headed 
whalebone  cane,  and  his  boots  were  of  feniinine  delicacy  and 
dimensions-  Such  was  Tom  at  that  time,  but  the  war  had 
'"'  brou2:ht  him  out."  He  had  rushed  into  the  ranks,  shouldered  a 
musket,  and  fought  bravely.  So  much  I  knew — and  I  was  soon 
to  hear  how  he  had  come  to  be  Stuart's  aid. 


62  MOHUX. 

The  supper  was  charming.  The  young  girls  waited  on  us  with 
mock  submission  and  delighted  smiles.  Tom  and  I  had  fallen  to 
the  lot  of  a  little  princess  with  golden  ringlets :  and  Miss  Katy 
Dare — that  was  her  name — acquitted  herself  marvellously.  "We 
supped  as  though  we  expected  to  eat  nothing  for  the  next  week 
— and  then  having  finished,  we  rose,  and  waited  in  turn  on  the 
fair  waiters. 

Behind  every  chair  now  stood  an  officer  in  uniform. 

Bright  eyes,  rosy  cheeks,  jewelled  hands,  glossy  curls — there 
was  the  picture,  my  dear  reader,  which  we  beheld  as  we  "waited" 
at  that  magical  supper  near  Buckland. 

"When  we  wrapped  our  capes  around  us,  and  fell  asleep  on  the 
floor,  the  little  maidens  still  laughed  in  our  dreams !  * 


XYI. 

A^  HOXEST   FOP. 


Stuart  moved  again  at  dawn.  The  scene  of  the  preceding 
evening  had  passed  away  like  a  dream.  "We  were  in  the  saddle, 
and  advancing. 

Biding  beside  Lieutenant  Tom  Herbert,  I  conversed  with  that 
worthy,  and  found  the  tedious  march  beguiled  by  his  gay  and  in- 
souciant talk. 

His  "  record  "  was  simple.  He  had  volunteered  in  the  infantry, 
and  at  the  battle  of  Cold  Harbor  received  a  wound  in  the  leg 
which  disqualified  him  for  a  foot-soldier  thenceforward.  His 
friends  succeeded  in  procuring  for  him  the  commission  of  lieu- 
tenant, and  he  was  assigned  to  duty  as  drill -master  at  a  camp  of 
instruction  near  Richmond. 

"  Here  I  was  really  in  clover,  old  fellow,"  said  Tom,  laughingly 
"no  more  toils,  no  more  hardships,  no  bullets,  or  hard  tack,  or 
want  of  soap.  A  snowy  shirt  every  day — kid  gloves  if  I  wanted 
them — and  the  sound  of  cannon  at  a  very  remote  distance  to  lull 
me  to  repose,  my  boy.     Things  had   changed,  they  had  indeed  ! 

*A  real  incident 


AlSr    HONEST    FOP.  63 

I  looked  back  with  scorn  on  the  heavy  musket  and  cartridge-box. 
I  rode  a  splendidly  groomed  horse,  wore  a  new  uniform  shining 
with  gold  braid,  a  new  cap  covered  with  ditto,  boots  which  you 
could  see  your  face  in,  a  magnificent  sash,  and  spurs  so  long  and 
martial  that  they  made  the  pavement  resound,  and  announced  my 
approach  at  the  distance  of  a  quarter  of  a  mile  I  I  say  the  pave- 
ment; I  was  a  good  deal  on  the  pavement — that  of  the  fashion- 
able Franklin  street  being  my  favorite  haunt.  And  as  the  Scrip- 
ture says,  it  is  not  good  for  man  to  be  alone,  I  had  young  ladies 
for  companions.  My  life  was  grand,  superb — none  of  your  low 
military  exposure,  like  that  borne  by  the  miserable  privates  and 
officers  in  the  field !  I  slept  in  town,  lived  at  a  hotel,  mounted 
my  horse  after  breakfast,  at  the  Government  stables  near  my 
lodgings,  and  went  gallantly  at  a  gallop,  to  drill  intantry  for  an 
hour  or  two  at  the  camp  of  instruction.  This  was  a  bore,  I  ac- 
knowledge, but  life  can  not  be  all  flowers.  It  was  soon  over, 
however — I  galloped  gallantly  back — dined  with  all  the  courses 
at  my  hotel,  and  then  lit  my  cigar  and  strolled  up  Franklin.  I 
wore  my  uniform  and  spurs  on  these  promenades — wild  horses 
tearing  me  would  not  have  induced  me  to  doff  the  spurs !  They 
were  so  martial !  They  jingled  so !  They  gave  a  military  and 
ferocious  set-oflf  to  my  whole  appearance,  and  were  immensely 
admired  by  the  fair  sex  !  Regularly  on  coming  back  from  my 
arduous  and  dangerous  duties  at  camp,  I  brushed  my  uniform, 
put  on  my  red  sash,  and  with  one  hand  resting  with  dignity  on 
my  new  sword  belt,  advanced  to  engage  the  enemy on  Frank- 
lin street." 

Tom  Herbert's  laugh  was  contagious ;  his  whole  bearing  so 
sunny  and  riante  that  he  was  charming. 

"Well,  how  did  you  awake  from  your  dole  e  far  nientef''  I 
said. 

"By  an  effort  of  the  will,  old  fellow — for  I  really  could  not 
stand  that.  It  was  glorious,  delightful — -that  war-making  in 
town  ;  but  there  was  a  thorn  in  it,  I  was  ashamed  of  myself. 
*Tom  Herbert  you  are  not  a  soldier,  you  are  an  impostor,'  I  said ; 
'you  are  young,  healthy,  as  good  food  for  powder  as  anybody 
else,  and  yet  here  you  are,  safely  laid  away  in  a  bomb-proof,  while 
your  friends  are  fighting.  Wake,  rouse  yourself,  my  friend  !  The 
3* 


64  MOIIUN. 

only  way  to  re;ialn  the  path  of  rectitude  is  to  go  back  to  the 
armyl'" 

"I  said  that,  Surry,"  Tom  continued,  "and  as  I  could  not  go 
hack  into  the  infantry  on  account  of  my  leg,  I  applied  for  an  as- 
signment to  duty  in  the  cavalry.  Then  the  war  office  had  a  time 
of  it.  I  besieged  the  nabobs  of  the  red  tape  day  and  night,  and 
they  got  so  tired  of  me  at  last  that  they  told  me  to  find  a  general 
who  wanted  an  aid  and  they  would  assign  me.'' 

"  Well,  as  I  was  coming  out  of  the  den  I  met  General  Jeb. 
Stuart  going  in.  I  knew  him  well,  and  he  was  tenth  cousin  to 
my  grandmother,  which  you  know  counts  for  a  great  deal  in 
Virginia." 

"  What's  the  matter,  Tom  ?"  he  said. 

"I  want  a  place  in  the  cavalry,  general." 

''"What  claim  have  you?" 

"  Shot  in  the  leg — can't  walk — am  tired  of  drilling  men  in 
bomb-proof." 

"  Good  !"  he  said,     "  That's  the  way  to  talk.     Come  in  here." 

"And  he  dragged  me  along.  I  found  that  one  of  his  aids  had 
just  been  captured — he  wanted  another,  and  he  applied  for  me. 
A  month  afterward  his  application  was  approved — short  for  the 
war  office.  That  was  five  days  ago.  I  got  into  the  saddle, — 
pushed  for  the  Rapidan — got  to  Middleburg — and  arrived  in  time 
for  supper." 

"  That's  my  history,  old  fellow,  except  that  I  have  just  fallen 
in  love — with  the  young  angel  who  waited  on  me  at  supper.  Miss 
Katy  Dare.  I  opened  the  campaign  in  a  corner  last  night — and 
I  intend  to  win  her,  Surry,  or  perish  in  the  attempt  I  " 


XVII. 

STUART  GRAZES  CAPTURE. 

As  Tom  Herbert  uttered  these  words,  a  loud  shout  in  front 
startled  us. 


STUART    GRAZES    CAPTURE.  65 

Stnart  had  ridden  on  ahead  of  his  column,  through  the  immense 
deserted  camps  around  Wolf  Run  Shoals,  attended  only  bj  two 
or  three  staff  officers. 

As  I  now  raised  my  head  quickly,  I  saw  him  coming  back  at 
headlong  speed,  directing  his  horse  by  means  of  the  halter  only, 
and  hotly  pursued  by  a  detachment  of  Federal  cavalry,  firing  on 
him  as  they  pressed,  with  loud  shouts,  upon  his  very  heels. 

"  Halt  I''  shouted  the  enemy.  And  this  order  was  followed  by 
"bang!  bang!  bang!" 

Stuart  did  not  obey  the  order. 

*'HaltI  halt  I" 

And  a  storm  of  bullets  whistled  around  our  heads.  I  had 
drawn  my  sword,  but  before  I  could  go  to  Stuart's  assistance, 
Tom  shot  ahead  of  me. 

He  came  just  in  time.  Two  of  the  enemy  had  caught  up  with 
Stuart,  and  were  making  furious  cuts  at  him.  He  parried  the 
blow  of  one  of  the  Federal  cavalry-men — and  the  other  fell  from 
the  saddle,  throwing  up  his  hands  as  he  did  so.  Tom  Herbert 
had  placed  his  pistol  on  his  breast,  and  shot  him  through  the 
heart. 

But  by  this  time  the  rest  had  reached  us.  A  sabre  flashed 
above  Tom's  head ;  fell,  cutting  him  out  of  the  saddle  nearly ;  and 
he  would  have  dropped  from  it,  had  I  not  passed  my  arm  around 
him. 

In  another  instant,  all  three  would  have  been  killed  or  cap- 
tured. But  the  firing  had  given  the  alarm.  A  thunder  of  hoofs 
was  heard  :  a  squadron  of  our  cavalry  dashed  over  the  hill :  in 
three  minutes  the  enemy  were  flying,  to  escape  the  edge  of  the 
sabre. 

Stuart  led  the  charge,  and  seemed  to  enjoy  it  with  the  zest  of 
a  fox-hunter.  He  had  lu  ^eed  escaped  from  a  critical  danger. 
He  had  pushed  on  with  a  few  of  his  staff,  as  I  have  said,  to  Fair- 
fax Station,  had  then  stopped  and  slipped  his  bridle  to  allow  his 
horse  to  eat  some  "  Yankpse  oats,"  and  while  standing  beside  the 
animal,  had  been  suddenly  charged  by  the  party  of  Federal 
cavalry,  coming  down  on  a  reconnoissance  from  the  direction  of 
the  Court-House.  So  sudden  was  their  appearance  tha^  he  was 
nearly  '-gobbled  up."     He  had  leaped  on  the  unbridled  horse; 


GQ  MOHUN. 

seized  the  halter,  and  fled  at  full  speed.  The  enemy  had  pursued 
him ;  he  liad  declined  halting — and  the  reader  has  seen  the 
sequel.* 

Stuart  pressed  the  party  hotly  toward  Sanxter's,  but  they 
escaped — nearly  capturiug  on  the  way,  however,  a  party  of 
officers  at  a  blacksmith's  shop.  The  general  came  back  in  high 
good  humor.     The  chase  seemed  to  have  delighted  him. 

*'  Bully  for  old  Tom  Herbert !"  he  exclaimed.  "  You  ought  to 
have  seen  him  when  they  were  cutting  at  him,  and  spoiling  his 
fine  new  satchel  I" 

Tom  Herbert  did  not  seem  to  participate  in  the  general's  mirth. 
He  was  examining  the  satchel  which  a  sabre  stroke  had  nearly  cut 
in  two. 

"  "What  are  you  looking  at  V  asked  Stuart. 

"This  hole,  general,"  replied  Tom,  uttering  a  piteous  sigh. 

"  Well,  it  is  a  trifle." 

"  It  is  a  serious  matter,  general." 

"  You  have  lost  something?" 

"  Yes." 

''"What?" 

"  A  joint  of  my  new  flute." 

And  Tom  Herbert's  expression  was  so  melancholy  that  Stuart 
burst  into  laughter. 

"  You  may  have  lost  your  flute,  Tom,"  he  said,  leaning  on  his 
shoulder,  "  but  you  have  won  your  spurs  at  least,  in  the  cavalry  1" 


XVIII. 

DROWSYLAND. 


At  daylight,  on  the  next  morning,  Stuart  had  crossed  the  Poto 
mac  into  Maryland, 

He  had   advanced  from  "Wolf  Run   Shoals  to  Fairfax  Court 
House,  where  the  men  rifled  the  sutlers'  shops  of  tobacco,  figs, 
white  gloves,  straw  hats,  and  every  edible  and  wearable  : — then 

*  Real. 


DPwOWSYLAND.  67 

the  column  pushed  on  toward  Seneca  Falls,  where  the  long 
"Wavering  line  of  horsemen  might  have  been  seen  hour  after  hour 
crossing  the  moonlit  river,  each  man,  to  prevent  wetting,  holding 
above  his  head  a  shot  or  shell  taken  from  the  caissons.  Then  the 
artillery  was  dragged  through  :  the  panting  horses  trotted  on,  and 
the  first  beams  of  day  saw  the  long  column  of  Stuart  ready  to 
advance  on  its  perilous  pathway  to  the  Susquehanna,  by  the 
route  between  the  Federal  army  and  Washington. 

The  word  was  given,  and  with  the  red  flags  fluttering,  Stuart 
moved  toward  Rockville,  unopposed,  save  by  a  picket,  which 
was  driven  olf  by  the  advance  guard.  Without  further  incident, 
he  then  pushed  on,  and  entered  the  town  in  triumph. 

A  charming  reception  awaited  him.  The  place  was  thorough- 
ly Southern ;  and  the  passage  of  the  cavalry  was  greeted  with 
loud  cheers.  Unbounded  was  the  delight,  above  all,  of  a  semi- 
nary of  young  girls.  Doors  and  windows  were  crowded : 
briglit  eyes  shone ;  red  lips  laughed  ;  waving  handkerchiefs  were 
seen  everywhere ;  and  when  Stuart  appeared  in  person,  he  was 
received  with  wild  rejoicing. 

He  bowed  low,  removing  his  plumed  hat,  but  suddenly  intelli- 
gence came  which  forced  him  to  push  on.  A  long  train  of 
"  government "  wagons  had  come  up  from  Washington,  and  on 
discovering  our  presence,  returned  toward  the  city  at  a  gallop. 
But  the  ferocious  rebels  were  after  them.  Stuart  led  the  charg- 
ing column — the  warlike  teamsters  were  soon  halted — the  trains 
became  our  spoil — and  witJi  countless  kicking  mules  driven  on- 
ward in  droves  before  them,  the  cavalry,  escorting  the  captured 
wagons,  continued  their  way  toward  Pennsylvania. 

Moving  all  that  night,  Stuart  came  to  Westminster,  where  Fitz 
Lee,  the  gallant,  drove  the  enemy's  cavalry  from  their  camp,  and 
the  town  fell  into  the  hands  of  Stuart. 

Here  scowls  instead  of  smiles  greeted  us.  Every  face  was 
glum  and  forbidding,  with  a  few  exceptions.  So  we  hastened  to 
depart  from  that  "  loyal "  town,  and  were  soon  on  the  soil  of 
Pennsylvania. 

Approaching  Hanover  we  suddenly  waked  up  the  hornets. 
Chambliss,  leading  Stuart's  advance,  pushed  ahead  and  drove 
in  a  picket.     Then  that  brave  soldier  rushed  on,  and  seemed  in- 


68  Monu>T. 

tent  on  taking  the  place,  when  I  was  sent  by  Stuart  to  order  him 
*'  not  to  go  too  far." 

I  came  up  with  Chambliss  as  he  was  charging,  but  had  scarce- 
ly given  him  the  order,  when  he  was  charged  in  turn  by  a  heavy 
force  and  driven  back. 

The  enemy  rushed  on,  firing  volleys,  and  the  road  was  full  of 
tramping  horsemen.  To  avoid  being  carried  away  with  them,  I 
diverged  into  a  field,  when  all  at  once  Stuart  appeared,  retreating 
at  full  gallop  before  a  party  who  were  chasing  him; 

It  was  a  serious  matter  then,  but  I  laugh  now,  remembering 
that  "good  run." 

Stuart  and  myself  retreated  at  a  gallop,  boot  to  boot ;  leaped 
ditches  and  fences;  and  got  off  in  safety. 

A  few  moments  afterward  his  artillery  opened  its  thunders. 
From  the  lofty  hill,  that  hardy  captain  of  the  horse  artillery, 
Breathed,  roared  obstinately,  driving  them  back.  Hampton's 
guns  on  the  right  had  opened  too — and  until  night,  we  held  the 
heights,  repulsing  every  advance  of  the  enemy. 

It  was  truly  a  fine  spectacle,  that  handsome  town  of  Hanover 
as  I  looked  at  it,  on  the  afternoon  of  the  fair  June  day.  In  front 
extended  green  fields  ;  then  the  church  spires  rose  above  the 
'  roofs  of  the  town  ;  behind,  a  range  of  mountains  formed  a  pic- 
turesque background.  It  is  true,  the  adjuncts  of  the  scene  were 
far  from  peaceful.  The  green  fields  were  full  of  blue  sharp- 
shooters ;  in  the  suburbs  were  posted  batteries ;  down  the  moun- 
tain road  behind,  wound  a  long  compact  column  of  cavalry. 

Breathed  fought  hard  that  day.  From  the  waving  field  of  rye 
on  the  upland  his  guns  thundered  on — in  the  face  of  that  fire,  the 
enemy  could  not,  or  would  not,  advance. 

So  the  night  came  on,  and  Stuart's  great  train  moved. 

Those  wagons  were  a  terrible  encumbrance  to  us  on  the  march. 
But  Stuart  determined  not  to  abandon  them,  and  thev  were 
dragged  on — a  line  stretched  to  infinity  ! 

Thenceforth,  dear  reader,  the  march  was  a  sort  of  dream  to  me. 
How  can  I  relate  niy  adventures — the  numerous  spectacles  and 
events  of  the  time  ?  I  know  not  even  now  if  they  were  events  or 
mere  dreams,  seeing  that,  all  the  long  way,  I  was  half  asleep  in  the 
saddle  I     It  was  a  veritable  Drowsyland  that  Ave  moved  through 


DPwOWSYLAis'D.  69 

on  horseback!  The  Dutchmen,  the  "fraus,"  the  "spreading," 
the  sauer-kraut — the  conestogas,  the  red  barns,  the  guttural 
voices,  the  strange  faces — were  these  actual  things,  or  the  mere 
fancies  of  a  somnambulist?  Was  I  an  officer  of  real  cavalry 
making  a  real  march  ;  or  a  fanciful  being,  one  of  a  long  column 
of  phantoms  ? 

I  seem  dimly  to  remember  a  pretty  face,  whose  owner  smiled 
on  me — and  a  faint  memory  remains  of  a  supper  which  she  gave 
me.  If  I  am  not  mistaken  I  was  left  alone  in  the  town  of  Salem 
— ^hostile  faces  were  around  me — and  I  was  falling  asleep  when 
Hampton's  cavalry  came  up. 

I  think,  then,  I  rode  on  with  him — having  been  left  to  direct 
him.  That  we  talked  about  horses,  and  the  superiority  of 
"  blood  "  in  animals  ;  that  at  dawn,  Hampton  said,  "  I  am  perishing 
for  sleep!"  and  that  we  lay  down,  side  by  side,  near  a  haystack. 

All  that  is  a  sort  of  phantasmagoria,  and  others  were  no  better 
than  myself.  "Whole  columns  went  to  sleep,  in  the  saddle,  as  they 
rode  along;  and  General  Stuart  told  me  afterward,  that  he  saw 
a  man  attempt  to  climb  over  a  fence,  half  succeed  only,  and  go 
to  sleep  on  the  top  rail ! 

Some  day  I  promise  myself  the  pleasure  of  travelling  in  Penn- 
sylvania. It  possesses  all  the  attractions  to  me  of  a  world  seen  iu 
a  dream! 

But  after  that  good  sleep,  side  by  side  with  the  great  Carolinian, 
things  looked  far  more  real,  and  pushing  on  I  again  caught  up 
with  Stuart. 

He  advanced  steadily  on  Carlisle,  and  in  the  afternoon  we 
heard  artillery  from  the  south. 

I  looked  at  my  military  map,  and  calculated  the  distance.  The 
result  was  that  I  said  : — 

"  General,  those  guns  are  at  a  place  called  Gettysburg  on  this 
map." 

"  Impossible!"  was  his  reply.  "They  can  not  be  fighting  there. 
You  are  certainly  wrong." 

But  I  was  right. 

Those  guns  were  the  signal  of  the  "First  day's  fight  at  Gettys- 
burg." 


'0  MOHUN. 


XIX. 

CARLISLE   BY   FIPwELIGHT. 

It  can  not  be  said  th.it  we  accomplished  very  enormous  results 
at  Carlisle.     The  enemy  defended  it  bravely. 

Stuart  sent  in  a  flag,  demanding  a  surrender :  this  proposition 
was  politely  declined  ;  and  for  fear  that  there  might  possibly  re- 
main some  doubts  on  the  subject,  the  Federal  commander  of  the 
post,  opened  with  artillery  upon  the  gray  cavalry. 

That  was  the  signal  for  a  brisk  fight,  and  a  magnificent  spec- 
tacle also. 

As  soon  as  the  enemy's  response  to  the  flag  of  truce  liad  been 
received,  Stuart  advanced  his  sharp-shooters,  replied  with  his 
artillery  to  their  own,  and  dispatched  a  party  to  destroy  the  ex- 
tensive United  States  barracks,  formerly  used  as  cantonments  for 
recruits  to  the  array. 

In  ten  minutes  tlie  buildings  were  wrapped  in  flames;  and  the 
city  of  Carlisle  was  illumined  magnificently.  The  crimson  light 
of  the  conflagration  revealed  every  house,  the  long  lines  of  trees, 
and  made  the  delicate  church  spires,  rising  calmly  aloft,  resemble 
shafts  of  rose-tinted  marble. 

I  recall  but  one  scene  which  was  equally  picturesque — the 
"doomed  city"  of  Fredericksburg,  on  the  night  of  December  11, 
1862,  when  the  church  spires  were  illumined  by  the  burning 
houses,  as  those  of  Carlisle  were  in  June,  18C3. 

So  much  for  this  new  "Siege  of  Carlisle."  Here  ray  descrip- 
ion  ends.  It  was  nothing — a  mere  picture.  An  hour  afterward 
Stuart  ceased  firing,  the  conflagration  died  down;  back  into  the 
black  night  sank  the  fair  town  of  Carlisle,  seen  then  for  the  first 
and  the  last  time  by  this  historian. 

The  guns  were  silent,  the  cavalry  retired;  and  Stuart,  accom- 
panied by  his  staflf,  galloped  back  to  a  great  deserted  house  where 
he  established  his  temporary  head-quarters. 

On  the  bold  face  there  was  an  expression  of  decided  ill-humor, 
lie  had  just  received  a  dispatch,  by  courier,  from  General  Lee. 


THE    HOUSE    IsEAR    CARLISLE.  71 

That  dispatch  said,  '-Come,  I  need  you  urgently  here,"  and 
the  "here"  in  question,  was  Gettysburg,  at  least  twenty  miles 
distant.  Now,  with  worn-out  men  and  horses,  twenty  miles  was 
a  serious  matter.  Stuart's  brows  were  knit,  and  he  mused 
gloomily. 

Suddenly  he  turned  and  addressed  me. 

"  You  were  right,  Surry,"  ho  said,  "those  guns  were  at  Get- 
tysburg. This  dispatch,  sent  this  morning,  reports  the  enemy- 
near  there." 

I  bowed;  Stuart  reflected  for  some  moments  without  speaking. 
Then  he  suddenly  said  : — 

"  I  wish  you  would  go  to  General  Lee,  and  say  I  am  coming, 
Surry.     How  is  your  horse  ?" 

"  Worn-out,  general,  but  I  can  get  another." 
"Good  ;  tell  General  Lee  that  I  will  move  at   once  to  Gettys- 
burg, with  all  my  force,  and  as  rapidly  as  possible  !" 

"I  will  lose  no  time,  general." 

And  saluting,  I  went  out. 

From  the  captured  horses  I  selected  the  best  one  I  could  find, 
and  burying  the  spurs  in  his  sides,  set  out  through  the  black 
niirlit. 


XX. 

THE  HOUSE   BETWEEN  CARLLSLE  AND  GETTYSBURG. 

You  know  when  you  set  out,  the  proverb  says,  but  yon  know 
not  when  you  will  arrive. 

I  left  Carlisle,  breasting  the  night,  on  the  road  to  Gettysburg, 
little  thinking  that  a  curious  incident  was  to  occur  to  me  upon 
the  way— an  incident  closely  connected  with  the  destinies  of 
some  personages  who  play  prominent  parts  in  this  history. 

I  had  ridden  on  for  more  than  an  hour,  through  the  darkness, 
keeping  a  good  look-out  for  the  enemy,  whose  scouting  parties  of 
cavalry  were  known  to  be  prowling  around,  when  all  at  once, 
my  horse,  who  was  going  at  full  speed,  struck  his  foot  against  a 
shar])  point  of  rock,  cropping  out  from  the  surface: 


72  MOHUX. 

The  animal  stumbled,  recovered  himself,  and  went  on  as  rapidly 
as  before.  A  liiindred  yards  further  his  speed  relaxed ;  then  he 
began  to  limp  painfully;  then  in  spite  of  every  application  of  the 
spur  I  could  not  force  him  out  of  a  slow  limping  trot. 

It  was  truly  unfortunate.  I  was  the  bearer  of  an  important 
message,  and  was  surrounded  by  enemies.  The  only  chance  was 
to  pass  through  them,  under  shadow  of  the  darkness  ;  with  light 
they  would  perceive  me,  and  my  capture  be  certain. 

A  hundred  yards  further,  and  I  found  I  must  decide  at  once 
upon  the  course  to  pursue.  My  horse  seemed  about  to  fall.  At 
every  stroke  of  the  spur  he  groaned  piteously,  and  his  limp  had 
become  a  stagger. 

I  looked  around  through  the  trees,  and  at  the  distance  of  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  I  saw  the  glimmer  of  a  light.  To  obtain  another 
horse  was  indispensable  under  the  circumstances ;  and  looking  to 
see  that  my  revolver  was  loaded  and  capped,  I  forced  my  totter- 
ing animal  toward  the  mansion  in  which  the  light  glimmered. 

My  design  was  simply  to  proceed  thither,  "impress"  a  fresh 
horse  at  the  pistol's  muzzle;  throw  my  saddle  upon  him;  leave 
my  own  animal,  and  proceed  on  my  way. 

Pushing  across  the  fields,  and  dismounting  to  let  down  the 
fences  which  my  limping  animal  could  not  leap,  I  soon  approached 
the  light.  It  shone  through  the  window  of  a  house  of  some  size, 
with  ornamental  grounds  around  it,  and  apparently  the  abode  of 
a  man  of  means. 

At  fifty  paces  from  it  I  dismounted  and  tethered  my  horse  in 
the  shadow  of  some  trees.  A  brief  reconnoissance  under  the  cir- 
cumstances was  advisable  ;  and  approaching  the  mansion  silently, 
without  allowing  my  sabre  to  make  any  clatter,  I  gained  the  long 
portico  in  front,  and  went  to  a  window  reaching  down  to  the 
flooring  of  the  verandah. 

Through  the  half-closed  Venetians  I  could  see  into  a  large  apart- 
ment, half  library,  half  sitting-room,  as  the  easy  chairs,  mantel 
ornaments,  desks,  and  book-cases  showed.  On  the  centre-table 
burned  a  brilliant  lamp — and  by  its  light  I  witnessed  a  spectacle 
which  made  me  draw  back  in  the  shadow  of  the  shutter,  and  rivet 
my  eyes  on  the  interior. 

Before  me,  in   the  illuminated  apartment,  I  saw  the  woman 


THE  HOUSE  NEAR  CARLISLE.     73 

whom  Mohiin  had  captured  on  the  Rappahannock ;  and  beside 
her  the  personage  with  whom  she  had  escaped  that  morning  in 
the  wagon  from  Culpeper  Court-House.  I  could  not  mistake  him. 
The  large,  prominent  nose,  the  cunning  eyes,  the  double  chin,  the 
fat  person,  and  the  chubby  hands  covered  with  pinchbeck  rings, 
were  still  fresh  in  ray  memory. 

The  name  of  this  personage  had  been  revealed  by  Nighthawk. 
Swartz,  the  secret  agent,  blockade-runner,  and  ''best  spy  in  the 
Federal  army  "  was  before  rae. 

A  glance  at  the  woman  revealed  no  change  in  her  appearance. 
Before  me  was  the  same  lithe  and  graceful  figure,  clad  as  before 
in  a  n-rav  dress.  I  saw  the  same  snow-white  cheeks,  red  lips,  and 
large  eyes  burning  with  a  latent  fire. 

The  two  were  busily  engaged,  and  it  was  not  difficult  to  under- 
stand their  occupation.  The  desks,  drawers  and  chests  of  the 
apartment  were  all  open ;  and  the  female  wiih  rapid  hands  was 
transferring  papers  from  them  to  Swartz,  who  methodically 
packed  them  in  a  leathern  valise.  These  papers  were  no  doubt 
important,  and  the  aim  to  remove  them  to  some  place  of  safety 
beyond  the  reach  of  the  Confederates. 

I  gazed  for  some  moments,  without  moving,  upon  the  spectacle 
of  these  two  night-birds  at  their  work.  The  countenance  of  the 
lady  was  animated;  her  motions  rapid;  and  from  time  to  time 
she  stopped  to  listen.  Swartz,  on  the  contrary,  was  the  incarna- 
tion of  phlegmatic  coolness.  His  face  wore  an  expression  of 
entire  equanimity ;  and  he  seemed  to  indulge  no  fears  whatever 
of  intruders. 

All  at  once,  however,  I  saw  his  eyes  glitter  as  they  fell  upon  a 
paper  which  she  handed  him  to  pack  away  with  the  rest.  It  was 
carefully  folded,  but  one  of  the  folds  flew  open  as  he  received  it, 
and  his  eyes  were  suddenly  fixed  intently  upon  the  sheet. 

Then  his  head  turned  quickly,  and  he  looked  at  his  companion. 
She  was  bending  over  a  drawer,  and  did  not  observe  that  glance. 
Thereupon  Swartz  folded  up  the  paper,  quietly  put  it  in  his 
pocket,  and  went  on  packing  the  valise  with  his  former  coolness; 
only  a  slight  color  in  his  face  seemed  to  indicate  concealed  emotion. 

As  he  pocketed  the  paper,  his  companion  turned  round.  It 
was  plain  that  she  had  not  perceived  the  manoeuvre. 


74:  MOHUX. 

At  the  same  moment  I  heard  the  sound  of  hoofs  in  rear  of  the 
house,  and  the  clatter  of  a  sabre  as  a  cavalier  dismounted.  A  few 
indistinct  words,  apparently  addressed  to  a  servant  or  orderly, 
followed.  Then  the  door  of  the  apartment  opposite  the  front  win- 
dow was  thrown  open,  and  a  man  entered. 

In  the  new-comer  I  recognized  M^ohun's  adversary  at  Upper- 
ville — Colonel  Darke,  of  the  United  States  Cavalry. 


XXI. 

FALLEN 

Daeke  entered  the  apartment  abruptly,  but  his  appearance 
seemed  to  occasion  no  surprise.  The  spy  retained  his  coolness. 
The  lady  went  on  with  her  work.  You  would  have  said  that  they 
had  expected  the  officer,  and  recognized  his  step. 

Their  greeting  was  brief.  Darke  nodded  in  apparent  approba- 
tion of  the  task  in  which  the  man  and  woman  were  engaged,  and 
folding  his  arms  in  front  of  tlie  marble  mantel,  looked  on  in 
silence. 

I  gazed  at  him  with  interest,  and  more  carefully  than  I  had 
been  able  to  do  during  the  fight  at  Upperville,  when  the  smoke 
soon  concealed  him.  Let  me  draw  his  outline.  Of  all  the  human 
beings  whom  I  encountered  in  the  war,  this  one's  character  and 
career  were  perhaps  the  most  remarkable.  "Were  I  writing  a 
romance,  I  should  be  tempted  to  call  him  the  real  hero  of  this 
volume. 

He  was  a  man  approaching  middle  age;  low  in  stature,  but 
broad,  muscular,  and  powerful.  He  was  clad  in  the  full-dress 
uniform  of  a  colonel  of  the  United  States  Cavalry,  wore  boots 
reaching  to  the  knee  and  decorated  with  large  spurs;  and  his 
arms  were  an  immense  sabre  and  a  brace  of  revolvers  in  black 
leatlier  holsters  attached  to  his  belt.  His  face  was  swarthv, 
swollen  by  excess  in  drink  apparently,  and  half  covered  by  a 
shajzcrv  beard  and  mustache  as  black  as  night.  The  eves  were 
deep-set,  and  wary :  the  poise  of  the  head  upon  the  shoulders, 


FALLEN.  Y5 

haughty ;  the  expression  of  the  entire  countenance  cold   plUe- 
matic,  grnn.  '  ^       *= 

Such  was  this  man,  upon  the  surface.  But  there  was  some- 
thing  more  about  him  which  irresistibly  attracted  attention,  and 
aroused  speculation.  At  tlie  first  glance,  you  set  him  down 
as  a  common-place  ruffian,  the  prey  of  every  brutal  passion.  At 
the  second  glance,  you  began  to  doubt  whether  he  was  a  mere 
vulgar  adventurer-you  could  see,  at  least,  that  this  man  was  not 
of  low  birth.  There  was  in  his  bearing  an  indefinable  something 
'Vlf .'°.  '''^  that  he  had  "seen  better  days."  The  surface 
of  the  fabric  was  foul  and  defiled,  but  the  texture  beneath  was  of 
velvet,  not  "  hodden  gray." 

'•That  brute,"  I  thought,  "was  once  a  gentleman,  and  crime 
or  drink  has  destroyed  him!" 

they  pi.ed  heir  busy  work;  and  once  or  twice  he  pointed  to 
drawers  wh.oh  they  had  failed  to  open.  These  direction  we  c 
promptly  obeyed,  and  the  work  went  on.  The  few  words  wl.ich 
the  panes  uttered  came  in  an  indistinct  murmur  only  throuc-1, 
the  wmdow  at  which  I  was  stationed.  ° 

Such  was  the  scene  within  the  mansion,  upon  whicli  I  gazed  with 
strong  cur,os,ty:  suddenly  tl>e  neigh  of  a  horse  was  heard  in  a 
dump  of  woods  beyond  the  front  gate ;  and  Darke  quickly  raised 
ills  head,  and  then  came  out  to  the  portico 

He  passed  within  three  feet  of  me,  but  did  not  perceive  me,  as 
I  was  concealed  by  one  of  the  open  Venetians.     Then  he  paused 

wat hd"     •     .^"r.""'   ''''""'   '"  '"'  ^°'"'«^-  •-"'i  "  ^-t-' 
watch-dog  was  barking-that  was  all.     No  other  noise  disturbed 

the  silence  of  the  July  night. 

Darke  remained  upon  the  portico  for  some  moments,  listening 

attentively.     Then  turned  and  re-entered  the  house.     Througf 

he  window,  I  could  see  him  make  his  appearance  again  in  the 

Illuminated  apartment.      In  response  to  the  glances  of  inquiry 

plablv^""'"'""''™'  """   """""   "  ^'""'■'  "'''^'  *'"'  "^»'   ^"'d 
"Nothing  is  stirring.     You  can  go  on  with  your  work  " 
In   this    however,    he   was  mistaken.      Darke  had    scarcely 

re-entered  the  apartment,  when  I  discerned  the  hoof-strokes  of 


76  Monux. 

horses  beyond  the  front  gate — then  the  animals  were  heard  leaping 
the  low  fence — a  moment  afterward  two  figures  came  on  at  full 
gallop,  threw  themselves  from  the  saddle,  and  rapidly  ap- 
proached the  house. 

The  rattle  of  a  sabre  which  one  of  them  wore  attracted  Darke's 
attention.  He  reached  the  door  of  the  room  at  a  single  bound — 
but  at  the  same  instant  the  new  comers  rushed  by  me,  and 
burst  in. 

As  they  passed  I  recognized  them.  One  was  Mohun,  the  other 
Nighthawk. 


XXII. 

DARKE  AXD   MOHUN. 


What  followed  was  instantaneous. 

The  adversaries  were  face  to  face,  and  each  drew  his  pistol  and 
fired  at  the  same  moment. 

Neither  was  struck:  they  drew  their  swords;  and,  tlirouirh  the 
cloud  of  smoke  filling  the  apartment,  I  could  see  Darke  and  Mohun 
close  in,  in  a  hand  to  hand  encounter. 

Tliey  were  both  excellent  swordsmen,  and  the  struggle  was  pas- 
sionate and  terrible.  Mohun's  movements  were  those  of  the  tiger 
springing  upon  his  prey;  but  Darke  met  the  attack  with  a  cool- 
ness and  phlegm  which  indicated  unshrinking  nerve  ;  his  expres- 
sion seemed,  even,  to  indicate  that  crossing  swords  with  his 
adversary  gave  the  swarthy  giant  extreme  pleasure.  His  face 
glowed,  and  a  flash  darted  from  beneath  the  shaggy  eyebrows. 
I  could  see  him  smile;  but  the  smile  was  stranire. 

From  the  adversaries  my  glance  passed  quickly  to  the  gray 
woman.  She  was  leaning  against  the  wall,  and  exhibited  no  emo- 
tion whatever;  but  the  lurid  blaze  in  the  great  dark  eyes,  as  she 
looked  at  Mohun,  clearly  indicated  that  a  storm  was  raging  in  her 
bosom.  Opposite  the  woman  stood  Xighthawk — motionless,  but 
grasping  a  pistol.  As  to  Swartz,  that  worthy  had  profited  by 
an  open  window  near,  and  had  glided  through  it  and  disapi>carod. 


DAEKE    AND    MOHUN.  77 

To  return  to  the  combatants.  The  passionate  encounter  ab- 
sorbed all  my  attention.  Mohun  and  Darke  were  cutting  at  each 
other  furiously.  They  seemed  equally  matched,  and  the  result 
was  doubtful.  One  thing  only  seemed  certain — that  in  a  few- 
minutes  one  of  the  adversaries  would  be  dead. 

Such  was  the  situation  of  affairs  when  shots  were  heard  with- 
out, the  clash  of  sabres  followed,  and  the  door  behind  Darke  was 
burst  open  violently  by  his  orderly,  who  rushed  in,  exclaiming : — 

"Look  out,  colonel  I     The  enemy  are  on  you  !" 

As  he  uttered  these  words,  the  man  drew  a  revolver  and  aimed 
at  Mohun's  breast. 

Before  he  could  fire,  however,  an  explosion  was  heard,  and  I 
saw  the  man  suddenly  drop  his  weapon,  which  went  off  as  it 
escaped  from  his  nerveless  grasp.  Then  he  threw  up  his  hands, 
reeled,  took  two  uncertain  steps  backward,  and  fell  at  full  length 
on  the  floor.     Nighthawk  had  shot  him  through  the  heart. 

All  this  had  taken  place  in  far  less  time  than  it  has  taken  to 
write  it.  I  had  made  violent  efforts  to  break  through  the  win- 
dow; and  finding  this  impossible,  now  ran  to  the  door  and  burst 
into  the  apartment. 

The  sincrular  scene  was  to  have  as  singular  a  denouement. 

Darke  evidently  realized  the  great  danger  which  he  ran,  for  the 
house  was  now  surrounded,  nearly,  and  his  capture  was  imminent. 

From  the  black  eyes  shot  a  glare  of  defiance,  and  advancing 
upon  Mohun,  he  delivered  a  blow  at  him  which  nearly  shattered 
his  opponent's  sword.  Mohun  struck  in  turn,  aiming  a  furious 
cut  at  Darke;  but  as  he  did  so,  he  stumbled  over  the  dead  or- 
derly, and  nearly  fell.    For  the  moment  he  was  at  Darke's  mercy. 

I  rushed  forward,  sword  in  hand,  to  ward  off  the  mortal  stroke 
which  I  was  certain  his  adversary  would  deliver,  but  my  inter- 
vention was  useless. 

Darke  recoiled  from  his  stumbling  adversary,  instead  of  striking 
at  him.  I  could  scarcely  believe  my  own  eyes,  but  the  fact  was 
unmistakable. 

Then  the  Federal  colonel  looked  around,  and  his  eye  fell  upon 
the  woman. 

"Kill  him!"  she  said,  coldly.  "Do  not  mind  me! — only  kill 
him  !->' 


78  MonuN. 

"No!"  growled  Darke.  And  seizing  the  woman  in  his 
arms : — 

"They  shall  not  take  you  prisoner!"  he  said. 

And  the  swarthy  Hercules  passed  through  the  door  in  rear, 
at  a  single  bound,  bearing  off  the  woman  like  a  feather. 

A  moment  afterward  the  hoof-strokes  of  a  horse  were  heard. 

Darke  had  disappeared  with  the  gray  woman. 

I  turned  to  look  at  Mohun.     He  was  standing  perfectly  mo 
tionless,  and  looking  after  Darke  with  a  strange  expression  of 
gloom  and  astonishment. 

"  You  are  unhurt !"  I  said. 

He  turned  quickly,  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Slightly  wounded — but  I  am  not  thinking  of  that." 

"  Of  what,  then  ?" 

"I  remember  only  one  thing — that  this  man  might  have  buried 
his  sword  in  my  heart,  and  did  not." 

An  hour  afterward  the  skirmish  was  over:  I  had  explained 
my  presence  at  the  house  to  Mohun,  parted  with  him,  promising 
to  see  him  soon  again ;  and,  mounted  upon  a  fresh  animal  which 
Mohun  presented  to  me  from  among  those  captured,  was  once 
more  on  mv  wav  to  Gettvsbarg. 

It  was  hard  to  realize  that  the  scenes  of  the  night  were  actual 
occurrences.     They  were  more  like  dreams  than  realities. 


XXIII. 

GETTYSBURG. 


I  CAME  in  sight  of  Gettysburg  at  sunrise. 

Gettysburg! — name  instinct  with  so  many  tears,  with  so  much 
mourning,  with  those  sobs  which  tear  their  "way  from  the  human 
heart  as  the  lava  makes  its  way  from  the  womb  of  the  volcano! 

There  are  words  in  the  world's  history  whose  very  sound  is 
like  a  sigh  or  a  groan ;  places  which  are  branded  "  accursed " 
by  the  moaning  lips  of  mothers,  wives,  sisters,  and  orphans. 
Shadowy  figures,  gigantic  and  draped  in  mourning,  seem  to  hover 


GETTYSBUEG.  79 

above  these  spots :  skeleton  arms  "with  bony  fingers  point  to  the 
soil  beneath,  crowded  with  graves :   from  the  eyes,  dim  and  hol- 
low, glare  unutterable  things :  and  the  grin  of  the  fieshless  lips  is 
the  gibbering  mirth  of  the  corpse  torn  from  its  cerements,  and 
erect,  as  though  the  last  trump  had  sounded,  and  the  dead  had 
arisen.     N"o  fresh  flowers  bloom  in  these  dreary  spots ;   no  merry 
birds  twitter  there;  no  streamlets  lapse  sweetly  with  musical  mur- 
murs beneath  the  waterflags  or  the  drooping  boughs  of  trees. 
See !  the  blighted  and  withered  plants  are  like  the  deadly  night- 
shade— true  flowers  of  war,  blooming,  or  trying  to  bloom,  on 
graves !     Hear  the  voices  of  the  few  birds — they  are  sad  and  dis- 
cordant !     See  the  trees — they  are  gnarled,  spectral,  and  torn  by 
cannon-balls.      Listen!     The  stream  yonder  is  not  limpid  and 
mirthful  like  other  streams.     You  would  say  that  it  is  sighing  as 
it  steals  away,  soiled  and  ashamed.     The  images  it  has  mirrored 
arouse  its  horror  and  make  it  sad.     The  serene  surface  has  not 
given  back  the  bright  forms  of  children,  laughing  and  gathering 
the  summer  flowers  on  its  banks.     As  it  sneaks  like  a  culprit 
through  the  scarred  fields  of  battle,  it  washes  bare  the  bones  of 
the  dead  in  crumbling  uniforms — bringing,  stark  and  staring,  to 
the  upper  air  once  more,  the  blanched  skeleton  and  the  irrinuin-z 
skull. 

Names  of  woe,  at  whose  utterance  the  heart  shudders,  the 
blood  curdles!  Accursed  localities  where  the  traveller  draws 
back,  turning  away  in  horror!  All  the  world  is  dotted  with 
them ;  everywhere  they  make  the  sunlight  black.  Among  them, 
none  is  gloomier,  or  instinct  with  a  more  nameless  horror,  than 
the  once  insignificant  village  of  Gettysburg. 

I  reached  it  on  the  morning  of  July  2,  1863. 

The  immense  drama  was  in  full  progress.  The  adversaries  had 
clashed  together.  Riding  across  the  extensive  fields  north  of  the 
town,  I  saw  the  traces  of  the  combat  of  the  preceding  day — and 
among  the  dying  I  remember  still  a  poor  Federal  soldier,  who 
looked  at  me  with  his  stony  and  half  glazed  eye  as  I  passed;  he 
was  an  enemy,  but  he  was  dying  and  I  pitied  him. 

A  few  words  will  describe  the  situation  of  affairs  at  that  mo- 
ment. 

Lee  had  pressed  on  northward  through  the  valley  of  the  Cum- 
4 


80  MOHUN. 

berland.  when  news  came  that  General  Meade,  Avho  had  succeeded 
Hooker,  was  advancing  to  deliver  battle  to  the  invaders. 

At  that  intelligence  Lee  arrested  his  march.  Meade  menaced 
his  communications,  and  it  was  necessary  to  check  him.  llilTs 
corps  was,  therefore,  sent  across  the  South  Mountain,  toward 
Gettysburg  ;  Ewell,  who  had  reached  York,  was  ordered  back  ; 
and  Lee  made  his  preparations  to  fight  his  adversary  as  soon  as 
he  appeared. 

The  columns  encountered  each  other  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Gettysburg — a  great  centre  toward  which  a  number  of  roads  con- 
verge, like  the  spokes  of  a  wheel  toward  the  hub. 

The  head  of  Hill's  column  struck  the  head  of  Reynolds's — then 
the  thunder  began. 

The  day  and  scene  were  lovely.  On  the  waving  wheat-fields 
and  the  forests  in  full  foliage,  the  light  of  a  summer  sun  fell  in 
flashing  splendor.  A  shght  rain  had  fallen ;  the  wind  was  gently 
blowing ;  and  tlie  leaves  and  golden  grain  were  covered  with 
drops  wliich  the  sunshine  changed  to  diamonds.  Over  the 
exquisite  landscape  drooped  a  beautiful  rainbow. 

Soon  blood  had  replaced  the  raindrops,  and  the  bright  bow 
spanning  the  sky  was  hidden  by  lurid  smoke,  streaming  aloft 
from  burning  buildings,  set  on  fire  by  shell. 

I  give  but  a  few  words  to  this  first  struggle,  which  I  did  not 
witness. 

The  Federal  forces  rushed  forward,  exclaiming  : — 

"We  have  come  to  stay!" 

"And  a  very  large  portion  of  them,"  said  one  of  their  officers, 
General  Doubleday,  "never  left  that  ground!" 

Alas!  many  thousands  in  gray,  too,  "came  to  stay." 

Hill  was  hard  pressed  and  sent  for  assistance.  Suddenly  it  ap- 
peared from  the  woods  on  his  left,  where  Ewell's  bayonets  were 
seen,  coming  back  trorn  the  Susquehanna. 

Rodes,  the  head  of  Ewell's  corps,  formed  line  and  threw  him- 
self into  the  action. 

Early  came  up  on  the  left;  Rodes  charged  and  broke  through 
the  Federal  centre.  Gordon,  commanding  a  brigade  then,  closed 
in  on  their  right  flank,  and  the  battle  was  decided. 

The  great  blue  crescent  was  shattered,  and  gave  way.    The  Con- 


THE    ARMY.  81 

federates  pressed  on,  and  the  Federal  array  became  a  rabble. 
They  retreated  pellmell  through  Gettysburg,  toward  Cemetery 
Hill,  leaving  their  battle-flags  aud  five  thousand  prisoners  in  our 
hands. 

Such  was  the  first  day's  fight  at  Gettysburg.  Lee's  head  of 
column  had  struck  Meade's  ;  each  had  rapidly  been  re-enforced ; 
the  affair  became  a  battle,  and  the  Federal  forces  were  completely 
defeated. 

That  was  the  turning  point  of  the  campaign.  If  this  success 
had  only  been  followed  up — if  we  could  only  have  seized  upon 
and  occupied  Cemetery  Hill! 

Then  General  Meade  would  have  been  compelled  to  retire  upon 
Westminster  and  Washington.  He  would  doubtless  have  fought 
somewhere,  but  it  is  a  terrible  thing  to  have  an  army  flushed  with 
victory  "  after  "  you  I 

Cemetery  Range  was  not  seized  that  night.  "When  the  sun 
rose  the  next  morning,  the  golden  moment  had  passed.  General 
Meade  was  ready. 

From  right  to  left,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  the  heights 
bristled  with  blue  infantry  and  artillery.  From  every  point  on 
the  ridge  waved  the  enemy's  battle  flags.  From  the  muzzles  of 
his  bronze  war-dogs,  Meade  sent  his  defiant  challenge  to  his  ad- 
versary to  attack  him. 

"Come  on!"  the  Federal  artillery  seemed  to  mutter  fiercely. 

And  Lee'B  guns  from  the  ridge  opposite  thundered  grimly  in 
reply, 

"We  are  coming!" 


XXIY. 

THE    ARMY. 


Alas!- 


That  is  the  word  which  rises  to  the  lips  of  every  Southerner, 
above  all  to  every  Virginian,  who  attempts  to  describe  this  terri- 
ble battle  of  Gettysburg. 


82  MOnUN. 

Tlie  cheeks  flusL,  the  voice  falters,  and  sometliing  like  a  fiery 
mist  blinds  the  eyes.  Wliat  comes  back  to  the  memory  of  the 
old  soldiers  who  saw  that  fight  is  a  great  picture  of  heroic  as- 
saults, ending  in  frightful  carnage  only, — of  charges  snch  as  the 
world  has  rarely  seen,  made  in  vain, — of  furious  onslaughts,  the 
only  result  of  which  was  to  strew  those  fatal  fields  with  the  dead 
bodies  of  the  flower  of  the  Southern  race 

And  we  were  so  near  succeeding !  Twice  the  enemy  staggered ; 
and  one  more  blow — only  one  more!  promised  the  South  a  com- 
plete victory ! 

When  Longstreet  attacked  Round  Top  Uill,  driving  the  enemy 
back  to  their  inner  line,  victory  seemed  within  our  very  grasji — 
but  we  could  not  snatch  it.  The  enemy  acknowledge  that,  and  it 
is  one  of  their  own  poets  who  declares  that 

"  The  century  reeled 
"VThen  Longstreet  paused  on  the  shipe  of  the  hill." 

Pickett  stormed  Cemetery  Heights,  and  wanted  only  support. 
Five  thousand  men  at  his  back  would  have  given  him  victory. 

There  is  a  name  for  the  battle  of  Gettysburg  which  exactly 
suits  it — "  The  Great  Graze  !" 

You  must  go  to  the  histories,  reader,  for  a  detailed  account  of 
this  battle.  I  have  not  the  heart  to  write  it,  and  aim  to  give  you 
a  few  scenes  only.  In  my  hasty  memoirs  I  can  touch  only  upon 
the  salient  points,  and  make  the  general  picture. 

The  ground  on  which  the  battle  was  fought,  is  familiar  to 
many  thousands.  A  few  words  will  de.scribe  it.  Cemetery 
Eidge,  where  General  Meade  had  taken  up  his  position,  is  a  range 
of  hills  running  northward  toward  Gettysburg,  within  a  mile  of 
which  place  it  bends  off  to  the  right,  terminating  in  a  lofty  and 
rock-bound  crest. 

This  crest  was  Meade's  right.  His  line  stretched  away  south- 
ward then,  and  ended  at  Round  Top  Hill,  the  southern  extremity 
of  the  range,  about  four  miles  distant. 

From  one  end  to  the  other  of  the  extensive  range,  bayonets 
glistened,  and  the  muzzles  of  cannon  grinned  defiance. 

Opposite  the  Cemetery  Range  was  a  lower  line  of  hills,  called 
Seminary  Range.  Upon  this  Lee  was  posted,  Ewell  holding  his 
left,  A.  P.  Hill  his  centre,  and  Longstreet  his  right. 


THE    ARMl.  83 

Between  the  two  armies  stretched  a  valley,  -waving  with  grain 
and  dotted  with  fruit-trees,  through  whicli  ran  the  Emmettsburg 
road,  on  the  western  side  of  a  small  stream.  TJje  golden  grain 
waved  gently ;  the  limpid  water  lapsed  away  beneath  grass  and 
flowers  ;  the  birds  were  singing  ;  the  sun  was  shining — it  was  the 
strangest  of  all  scenes  for  a  bloody  conflict. 

I  rode  along  the  lino  of  battle,  and  curiously  scanned  the  fea- 
tures of  the  landscape.  There  is  a  frightful  interest  connected 
with  ground  which  is  soon  going  to  become  the  arena  of  a  great 
combat.  A  glance  told  me  that  the  enemy's  position  was  much 
the  stronger  of  the  two.    Would  Lee  attack  it  ? 

From  the  landscape  I  turned  to  look  at  the  array.  JTever  had 
I  seen  them  so  joyous.  It  would  be  impossible  to  convey  any 
idea  of  the  afllatus  which  buoyed  them  up.  Every  man's  veins 
seemed  to  run  with  quicksilver,  instead  of  blood.  Every  cheek 
was  glowing.  Every  eye  flashed  with  superb  joy  and  defiance. 
You  would  have  supposed,  indeed,  that  the  troops  were  under 
the  effect  of  champagne  or  laughing  gas.  ''I  never  even  imagined 
such  courage,"  said  a  Federal  officer  afterward;  "your  men 
seemed  to  be  drunk  with  victory  when  they  charged  us !" 

That  was  scarce  an  exaggeration.  Alreadv  on  the  morning  of 
battle  they  presented  this  appearance.  Lying  down  in  line  of 
battle,  they  laughed,  jested,  sang,  and  resembled  children  enjoy- 
ing a  holiday.  On  the  faces  of  bearded  veterans  and  boy-soldiors 
alike  was  a  splendid  pride.  The  victories  of  Fredericksburg, 
and  Chancellorsville  had  electrified  the  troops.  They  tliouglit 
little  of  a  foe  who  could  be  so  easily  driven  ;  they  looked  forward 
to  victory  as  a  foregone  conclusion — alas!  they  did  not  remember 
that  they  held  the  heights  at  Fredericksburg ;  and  that  jloade  on 
Cemetery  Hill  was  an  adversary  very  different  from  Hooker  in 
the  Spottsylvania  ^Yilderness ! 

Such  was  the  spectacle  which  I  witnessed,  when  after  deliver- 
ing my  message  to  General  Lee,  I  rode  along  the  Southern  line, 
I  think  the  great  commander  shared  in  some  measure  the  senti- 
ment of  his  troops.  His  bearing  was  collected;  in  his  eye  you 
could  read  no  trace  of  excitement ;  the  lips  covered  by  the  gray 
mustache  were  firm  and   composed ;    and   he  greeted  me  with 


84:  MOIIUN. 

quiet  courtesy: — but  ia  the  cheeks  of  the  great  soldier  a  ruddj 
glow  seemed  to  betray  anticipated  victory. 

I  confess  I  sliared  the  general  sentiment.  That  strange  intoxi 
cation  was  contagious,  and  I  was  drunk  like  the  rest  witli  thp 
thougiit  of  triumph.  That  triumph  would  open  to  us  the  gates 
of  Wasliington  and  bring  peace.  The  North  scarcely  denied  that 
then — though  they  may  deny  it  to-day.  The  whole  country  was 
completely  weary  of  the  war.  There  seemed  to  be  no  hope  of 
compelling  the  South  to  return  to  the  Union.  A  victory  over 
Meade,  opening  the  whole  North  to  Lee,  promised  a  treaty  of 
peace.  The  day  had  arrived,  apparently  when  the  army  of 
Northern  Virginia,  musket  in  hand,  was  about  to  dictate  the 
terms  of  that  document. 

"  Lee  has  only  to  slip  the  leash,"  I  thought,  as  I  gazed  at  the 
army,  "and  these  war-dogs  will  tear  down  their  prey!" 

Alas !  they  tore  it,  but  were  torn  too !  they  did  all  at  Gettys- 
burg that  any  troops  could  do. 

What  was  impossible,  was  beyond  even  their  strength. 


XXV. 

THE   WRESTLE  FOR  ROUND   TOP   HILL. 

From  the  morning  of  the  second  of  July  to  the  evening  of  the 
third,  the  fields  south  of  Gettj'sburg  were  one  great  scene  of  smoke, 
dust,  yproar,  blood;  of  columns  advancing  and  returning;  can- 
non thundering;  men  shouting,  yelling,  cheering,  and  dying; 
blue  mingled  with  gray  in  savage  and  unrelenting  battle. 

In  that  smoke-cloud,  with  the  ears  deafened,  you  saw  or  heard 
little  distinctly.  But  above  the  confused  struggle  rose  two  great 
incidents,  which  on  successive  days  decided  every  thing. 

The  first  of  them  was  Longstreet's  assault  on  the  enemy's  left 
wing,  in  front  of  Round  Top  Plill. 

Lee  had  displayed  excellent  soldiership  in  determining  upon 
this  movement,  and  it  will  be  seen  that  it  came  within  an  inch  of 


THE    WRESTLE.  85 

success.  Standing  upon  Seminary  Range,  near  his  centre,  be  had 
reconnoitered  General  Meade's  position  through  his  field-glass, 
with  great  attention  ;  and  this  examination  revealed  the  fact 
that  the  Federal  line  was  projected  forward  in  a  salient  in  front 
of  Round  Top  Hill,  a  jagged  and  almost  inaccessible  peak,  near 
which  rested  General  Meade's  extreme  left. 

If  this  weak  point  could  be  carried,  "  it  appeared  "  said  Lee, 
"  that  its  possession  would  give  facilities  for  assailing  and  carry- 
ing the  more  elevated  ground  and  crest  beyond." 

As  to  ihe  importance  of  tliat  crest— namely  Round  Top  Hill- 
hear  General  Meade: — 

♦'  If  they  had  succeeded  in  occupying  that,  it  would  have  pre- 
vented me  from  holding  any  of  the  ground  which  I  subsequently 

held  to  the  last." 

Lee  determined  to  attack  the  salient,  making  at  the  same  time 
a  heavy  demonstration — or  a  real  assault— upon  the  Federal  right, 

opposite  Ewell. 

All  his  preparations  were  not  made  until  the  afternoon. 
Then  suddenly,  Longstreet's  artillery  opened  its  thunders. 

At  that  moment  the  spectacle  was  grand.  The  heights,  the 
slopes,  the  fields,  and  the  rugied  crest  opposite,  were  enveloped 
in  smoke  and  fire  from  the  bursting  shell.  The  sombre  roar  as- 
cended hke  the  bellowing  of  a  thousand  bulls,  leaped  back  from 
the  rocks,  and  rolled  away,  in  wild  echoes  through  the  hills.  All 
the  furies  seemed  let  loose,  and  yet  this  was  only  the  preface. 

At  four  in  the  evening  the  thunder  dropped  to  silence,  and 
along  the  lines  of  Hood  and  McLaws,  which  formed  the  charging 
column,  ran  a  wild  cheer,  which  must  have  reached  the  ears  of 
the  enemy  opposite. 

That  eheer  told  both  sides  that  the  moment  had  come.  The 
word  was  given,  and  Longstreet  hurled  his  column  at  the  blue 
line  occupying  a  peach-orchard  in  his  front. 

The  blow  was  aimed  straight  at  the  salient  in  the  Federal  line, 
and  in  spite  of  a  brave  resistance  it  was  swept  away  ;  McLaws 
advancing  rapidly  toward  the  high  ground  in  its  rear.  At  one 
blow  the  whole  left  wing  of  General  Meade's  army  seemed 
thrown  into  irretrievable  confusion,  and  Hood  pressing  forward  on 
McLaws's  right,  hastened  to  seize  upon  the  famous  Round  Top, 


86  MOllDN. 

from  whicli  lie  would  be  able  to  hurl  Lis  thunder  upon  the  flank 
and  rear  of  the  Federal  lino  of  battle. 

The  scene,  like  the  conflict  which  now  took  place,  was  wild 
and  singular.  The  crest  of  Round  Top  Hill  was  a  mass  of  rock, 
which  rose  abruptly  from  the  rough  and  jagged  slope.  It  was 
unoccupied — for  the  sudden  overthrow  of  the  force  in  front  of  it 
had  not  been  anticipated — and  one  headlong  rusli  on  the  part  of 
Hood  alone  seemed  necessary  to  give  him  possession  of  the  real 
key  of  the  whole  position. 

Hood  saw  that  at  a  glance,  and  dashed  up  the  slope  at  the  head 
of  his  men.  It  was  scarcely  an  order  of  battle  which  his  troops 
presented  at  this  moment.  But  one  thought  burned  in  every 
heart.  The  men  swarmed  up  the  hill-side  ;  the  woods  gave  back 
the  rolling  thunder  of  their  cheers;  already  the  Southern  battle- 
flags  carried  by  the  foremost  were  fluttering  on  tlie  crest. 

The  mass  rushed  toward  the  red  flags ;  for  an  instant  the  gray 
figures  were  seen  erect  upon  the  summit — then  a  sudden  crash  of 
musketry  resounded — and  a  mad  struggle  began  with  a  Federal 
brigade  which  had  hastened  to  the  spot. 

This  force,  it  is  said,  was  hurried  up  by  General  Warren,  who 
finding  the  Federal  signal-officers  about  to  retire,  ordered  them, 
to  remain  and  continue  waving  their  flags  to  the  last;  and  then, 
seizing  on  the  first  brigade  ho  could  find,  rushed  them  up  the 
slope  to  the  crest. 

They  arrived  just  in  time.  Hood's  men  were  swarming  on  the 
crest.  A  loud  cheer  arose,  but  all  at  once  they  found  themselves 
face  to  face  with  a  line  of  bavonets,  while  beyond  were  seen  con- 
fused  and  struggling  masses,  dragging  up  cannon. 

"What  followed  was  a  savage  grapple  rather  than  an  ordinary 
conflict.  Only  a  small  part  of  Hood's  force  had  reached  the  sum- 
mit, and  this  was  assailed  by  a  whole  brigade.  The  fight  was 
indescribable.  All  that  the  eye  could  make  out  for  some  mo- 
ments in  the  dust  and  smoke,  was  a  confused  mass  of  men  clutch- 
ing each  other,  dealing  blows  witli  the  butt-ends  of  muskets,  or 
fencing  with  bayonets — men  in  blue  and  gray,  wrestling,  cursing, 
falling,  and  dying,  in  the  midst  of  the  crash  of  small-arms,  and  the 
thunder  of  cannon,  which  clothed  the  crest  in  flame. 

When  the  smoke  drifted,  it  was  seen  that  the  Confederates  had 


CHARGE     OF    THE     YIRGIXIAXS.  87 

been  repulsed,  and  driven  from  the  hill.  Hood  was  foiling  back 
slowly,  like  a  wounded  tiger,  who  glares  at  tlie  huntsman  and 
defies  him  to  the  last.  The  sloi)e  was  strewed  with  some  of  his 
bravest.  The  Federal  cannon  roaring  on  Round  Top  Hill,  seemed 
to  be  laughing  hoarsely. 

McLaws,  too,  had  fallen  back  after  nearly  seizing  upon  the 
crest  in  his  front.  The  enemy  had  quickly  re-enforced  their  left, 
with  brigades,  divisions,  and  corps,  and  the  Confederates  had 
been  hotly  assailed  in  their  turn.  As  night  descended,  the  whole 
Southern  line  fell  back.  The  pallid  moonlight  shone  on  the  up- 
turned faces  of  the  innumer^able  dead. 

Longstreet  sat  on  a  fence,  cutting  a  stick  with  his  penknife, 
when  an  English  oiScer  near  him  exclaimed  : — 

"I  would  not  have  missed  this  for  any  thing?" 

Longstreet,  laughed  grimly. 

"  I  would  like  to  have  missed  it  very  much  I"  *  he  said. 


XXVI. 

THE   CHARGE   OF   THE  VIRGINIANS. 

Lee's  great  blow  at  the  enemy's  left  had  failed.  He  had  thrown 
his  entire  right  wing,  under  Longstreet,  against  it.  The  enemy 
had  been  driven  ;  victory  seemed  achieved ; — but  suddenly  the 
blue  lines  had  rallied,  they  had  returned  to  the  struggle,  their 
huge  masses  had  rolled  forward,  thrown  Longstreet  back  in 
turn,  and  now  the  pale  moon  looked  down  on  the  battle-field 
where  some  of  the  bravest  souls  of  the  South  had  poured  out  their 
blood  in  vain. 

Lee  had  accomplished  nothing,  and  one  of  his  great  corps  was 
panting  and  bleeding.  It  was  not  shattered  or  even  shaken.  The 
iron  fibre  would  stand  any  thing  almost.  But  the  sombre  result 
remained — Longstreet  had  attacked  and  had  been  repulsed. 

What  course  would  Lee  now  pursue?     Would  he  retire? 

*  His  words. 
4* 


88  MOHUN. 

Retire  ?  Tlie  army  of  Northern  Virginia  lose  heart  at  a  mere 
rebuft"?  Lee^s  veteran  annj  give  up  the  great  invasion,  after  a 
mere  repulse  ?  Troops  and  commander  alike  shrunk  from  the 
very  thought.  One  more  trial  of  arms — something — an  attack 
somewhere — not  a  retreat  ! 

That  was  the  spirit  of  the  army  on  the  night  of  the  second  of 
July. 

A  flanking  movement  to  draw  the  enemy  out  of  their  works, 
or  a  second  attack  remained. 

Lee  determined  to  attack. 

Longstreet  and  Ewell  had  accomplished  nothing  by  assailing 
the  right  and  left  of  the  enemy.  Lee  resolved  now  to  throw  a 
column  against  its  centre — to  split  the  stubborn  obstacle,  and 
pour  into  the  gap  with  the  whole  army,  when  all  would  be  over. 

That  was  hazardous,  you  will  say  perhaps  to-day,  reader.  And 
you  have  this  immense  argument  to  advance,  that  it  failed.  Ah  ! 
these  arguments  after  the  event!  they  are  so  fatal,  and  so  very 
easy. 

Right  or  wrong,  Lee  resolved  to  make  the  attack ;  and  on  the 
third  of  Julv  he  carried  out  his  resolution. 

If  the  writer  of  the  South  shrinks  from  describing  the  bloody 
repulse  of  Longstreet,  much  more  gloomy  is  the  task  of  painting 
that  last  charge  at  Gettysburg.  It  is  one  of  those  scenes  which 
Lee's  old  soldiers  approach  with  repugnance.  That  thunder  of 
the  guns  which  comes  back  to  memory  seems  to  issue,  hollow  and 
lugubrious,  from  a  thousand  tombs. 

Let  us  pass  over  that  tragedy  rapidly.  It  must  be  touched  on 
in  these  memoirs — but  I  leave  it  soon. 

It  is  the  third  of  July,  1863.  Lee's  line  of  battle,  stretching 
along  the  crest  of  Seminary  Ridge,  awaits  the  signal  for  a  new 
conflict  with  a  carelessness  as  great  as  on  the  preceding  day.  The 
infantry  are  laughing,  jesting,  cooking  their  rations,  and  smoking 
their  pipes.  The  ragged  cannoneers,  with  flashing  eyes,  smiling 
lips,  and  faces  blackened  with  powder,  are  standing  in  groups,  or 
lying  down  around  the  pieces  of  artillery.  Near  the  centre  of 
the  line  a  gray-headed  officer,  in  plain  uniform,  and  entirely  un- 
attended, has  dismounted,  and  is  reconnoitring  the  Federal 
position  through  a  pair  of  field-glasses. 


CHARGE     OF    THE    VIRGINIANS.  89 

It  is  Lee,  and  he  is  looking  toward  Cemetery  Heights,  the 
Mount  St.  Jean  of  the  new  Waterloo — on  whose  slopes  the 
immense  conflict  is  going  to  be  decided. 

Lee  gazes  for  some  moments  through  his  glasses  at  the  long 
range  bristling  with  bayonets.  Not  a  muscle  moves ;  he  resem- 
bles a  statue.  Then  he  lowers  the  glasses,  closes  them  thought- 
fully, and  his  calm  glance  passes  along  the  lines  of  his  arm}^  You 
would  say  that  this  glance  penetrates  the  forest;  that  he  sees  his 
old  soldiers,  gay,  unshrinking,  unmoved  by  the  reverses  of  Long- 
street,  and  believing  in  themselves  and  in  him  !  The  blood  of  the 
soldier  responds  to  that  thought.  The  face  of  the  great  com- 
mander suddenly  flushes.  He  summons  a  staflE*  officer  and  utters 
a  few  words  in  calm  and  measured  tones.  The  order  is  given. 
The  grand  assault  is  about  to  begin. 

That  assault  is  going  to  be  one  of  the  most  desperate  in  all  his- 
tory. Longstreet's  has  been  fierce — this  will  be  mad  and  full  of 
headlong  fury.  At  Round  Top  blood  flowed — here  the  earth  is 
going  to  be  soaked  with  it.  Gettysburg  is  to  witness  a  charge 
recalling  that  of  the  six  hundred  horsemen  at  Balaklava.  Each 
soldier  will  feel  that  the  fate  of  the  South  depends  on  him,  per- 
haps. If  the  wedge  splits  the  tough  grain,  cracking  it  from  end 
to  end,  the  axe  will  enter  after  it — the  work  will  be  finished — the 
red  flag  of  the  South  will  float  in  triumph  over  a  last  and  decisive 
field. 

Pickett's  division  of  Virginia  troops  has  been  selected  for  the 
hazardous  venture,  and  they  prepare  for  the  ordeal  in  the  midst 
of  a  profound  silence.  Since  the  morning  scarce  a  gunshot  has 
been  heard.  Now  and  then  only,  a  single  cannon,  like  a  signal- 
gun,  sends  its  growl  through  the  hills. 

Those  two  tigers,  the  army  of  Northern  Virginia  and  the  array 
of  the  Potomac,  are  crouching,  and  about  to  spring. 

At  one  o'clock  the  moment  seems  to  have  arrived.  Along  the 
whole  front  of  Hill  and  Longstreet,  the  Southern  artillery  all  at 
once  bursts  forth.  One  hundred  and  fortv-five  cannon  send  their 
threatening  thunder  across  the  peaceful  valley.  From  Cemetery 
Heights  eighty  pieces  reply  to  them ;  and  for  more  than  an  hour 
these  two  hundred  and  twenty-five  cannon  tear  the  air  with  their 
harsh  roar,  hurled  back  in  crash  after  crash  from  the  rocky  ram- 


90  MOIIU^r. 

parts.  That  tliiinder  is  the  most  terrible  yet  heard  in  the  war. 
It  stirs  the  coolest  veterans.  General  Hancock,  the  composed 
and  nnexcitable  soldier,  is  going  to  say  of  it,  "Their  artillery  firo 
was  most  terrific;  ...  it  was  the  most  terrific  cannonade  I  ever 
witnessed,  and  the  most  prolonged.  ...  It  was  a  most  terrific 
and  appalling  cannonade,  one  possibly  hardly  ever  equalleJ," 

For  nearly  two  hours  Lee  continues  this  "terrific"  fire.  The 
Federal  guns  reply — shot  and  shell  crossing  each  other;  racing 
across  the  blue  sky;  battering  the  rocks;  or  bursting  in  showers 
of  iron  fragments. 

Suddenly  the  Federal  fire  slackens,  and  then  ceases.  Their 
ammunition  has  run  low,*  or  they  are  silenced  by  the  Southern 
fire.     Lee's  guns  also  c6ase    firing.     The  hour  has  come. 

The  Virginians,  nnder  Pickett,  form  in  double  line  in  the  edge 
of  the  woods,  wliere  Lee's  centre  is  posted.  These  men  are  rag- 
ged and  travel-worn,  but  tlieir  bayonets  and  gun-barrels  shine  like 
silver.     From  the  steel  hedge,  as  the  men  move,  dart  lightnings. 

From  the  Cemetery  Heights  the  enemy  watch  that  ominous 
apparition — the  gray  line  of  Virginians  drawn  up  for  the  charge. 

At  the  word,  they  move  out,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  at  common 
time.  Descending  the  slope,  they  enter  on  the  valley,  and  move 
steadily  toward  the  heights. 

The  advance  of  the  column,  with  its  battle-flags  floating  proud- 
ly, and  its  ranks  closed  up  and  dressed  with  the  precision  of 
troops  on  parade,  is  a  magnificent  spectacle.  Old  soldiers,  hard- 
ened in  the  fires  of  battle,  and  not  given  to  emotion,  lean  forward 
watching  the  advance  of  the  Virginians  with  fiery  eyes.  You 
would  say,  from  the  fierce  clutch  of  the  gaunt  hands  on  the  mus- 
kets, that  they  wish  to  follow  ;  and  many  wish  that. 

The  column  is  midway  the  valley,  and  beginning  to  move  more 
rapidly,  when  suddenly  the  Federal  artillery  opens.  The  ranks 
are  swept  by  round  shot,  shell,  and  canister.  Bloody  gaps  ap- 
pear, but  the  line  closes  up,  and  continues  to  advance.  The  fire 
of  the  Federal  artillery  redoubles.  All  the  demons  of  the  pit 
seem  howling,  roaring,  yelling,  and  screaming.  The  assaulting 
column  is  torn  by  a  whirlwind  of  canister,  before  which  men  fall 
in  heaps  mangled,  streaming  with  blood,  their  bosoms  torn  to 

*  This  wns  the  real  reason. 


CHARGE    OF    THE    VIRGINIANS.  91 

pieces,  their  hands  clutching  the  grass,  their  teeth  biting  the 
earth.  The  ranks,  however,  close  up  as  before,  and  the  Virgin- 
ians continue  to  advance. 

From  common  time,  they  have  passed  to  quick  time — now  they 
march  at  tlie  double-quick.  That  is  to  say,  they  run.  They  have 
reached  the  slope ;  the  enemy's  breastworks  are  right  before 
them  ;  and  they  dash  at  them  with  wild  cheers. 

They  are  still  three  hundred  yards  from  the  Federal  works, 
wlien  the  real  conflict  commences,  to  which  the  cannonade  was 
but  child's  play.  Artillery  has  thundered,  but  something  more 
deadly  succeeds  it — the  sudden  crash  of  musketry.  From  behind 
a  stone  wall  the  Federal  infantry  rise  up  and  pour  a  galling  fire 
into  the  charging  column.  It  has  been  accompanied  to  this  mo- 
ment by  a  body  of  other  troops,  but  those  troops  now  disappear, 
like  dry  leaves  swept  off  by  the  wind.  Tlie  Virginians  still 
advance. 

Amid  a  concentrated  fire  of  infantry  and  artillery,  in  their  front 
and  on  both  flanks,  they  pass  over  the  ground  between  them- 
selves and  the  enemy  ;  ascend  the  slope  ;  rush  headlong  at  the 
breastworks :  storm  them :  strike  their  bavonets  into  the  ene- 
ray,  who  recoil  before  them,  and  a  wild  cheer  rises,  making  the 
blood  leap  in  the  veins  of  a  hundred  thousand  men. 

The  Federal  works  are  carried,  and  the  troops  are  wild  with 
enthusiasm.  "With  a  thunder  of  cheers  they  press  upon  the  flying 
enemy  toward  the  crest. 

Alas !  as  the  smoke  drifts,  they  see  what  is  enough  to  dis- 
liearten  the  bravest.  They  have  stormed  the  first  line  of  works 
only  !  Beyond,  is  another  and  a  stronger  line  still.  Behind  it 
swarm  the  heavy  reserves  of  the  enemy,  ready  for  the  death- 
struggle.  But  the  column  can  not  pause.  It  is  "  do  or  die."  In 
their  faces  are  thrust  the  muzzles  of  muskets  spouting  flame. 
"Whole  ranks  go  down  in  the  fire.  The  survivors  close  up,  utter 
a  fierce  cheer,  and  rush  straight  at  the  second  tier  of  works. 

Then  is  seen  a  spectacle  which  will  long  be  remembered  with 
a  throb  of  the  heart  by  many.  The  thinned  ranks  of  the  Virgin- 
ians are  advancing,  unmoved,  into  the  very  jaws  of  death.  They 
go  forward — and  are  annihilated.  At  every  step  death  meets 
them.     The  furious  fire  of  the  enemy,  on  both  flanks  and  in  their 


92  MOHUN. 

front,  Imrls  them  back,  mangled  and  dying.  The  brave  Garnett 
is  killed  while  leading  on  his  men.  Kemper  is  lying  on  the  earth 
maimed  for  life.  Armistoad  is  mortally  wounded  at  the  moment 
when  he  leaps  upon  the  breastworks  : — he  waves  his  hat  on  the 
point  of  his  sword,  and  staggers,  and  falls.  Of  fifteen  tield  offi- 
cers, fourteen  have  fallen.  Three-fourths  of  the  men  are  dead, 
wounded,  or  prisoners.  The  Federal  infantry  has  closed  in  on 
the  flanks  and  rear  of  the  Virginians — whole  corps  assault  the 
handful — the  little  band  is  enveloped,  and  cut  off  from  succor — 
they  turn  and  face  the  enemy,  bayonet  to  bayonet,  and  die. 

When  the  smoke  drifts  away,  all  is  seen  to  be  over.  It  is  a 
panting,  staggering,  bleeding  remnant  only  of  the  brave  division 
that  is  coming  back  so  slowly  yonder.  They  are  swept  from  the 
fatal  hill — pursued  by  yells,  cheers,  cannon-shot,  musket-ball.«, 
and  canister.  As  they  doggedly  retire  before  the  howling  hurri- 
cane, the  wounded  are  seen  to  stagger  and  full.  Over  the  dead 
and  dying  sweeps  the  canister.  Amid  volleys  of  musketry  and 
the  roar  of  cannon,  all  but  a  handful  of  Pickett's  Virginians  pass 
into  eternity. 


11. 

THE  GREAT  MOMENT   OF  A  GREAT  LIFE. 

I  WAS  gazing  gloomily  at  the  field  covered  with  detachments 
limping  back  amid  a  great  whirlwind  of  shell,  when  a  mounted 
officer  rode  out  of  the  smoke.  In  his  right  hand  he  carried  his 
drawn  sword — his  left  arm  was  thrown  around  a  wounded  boy 
whom  he  supported  on  the  pommel  of  his  saddle. 

In  the  cavalier  I  recognized  General  Daveuant,  whom  I  had 
seen  near  the  village  of  Paris,  and  who  was  now  personally 
known  to  me.  In  the  boy  I  recognized  the  urchin,  Charley, 
with  the  braided  jacket  and  jaunty  cup. 

I  spurred  toward  him. 

*'Your  son — I"  I  said,  and  I  pointed  to  the  boy. 


THE     GREAT    MOMENT.  93 

"He  is  dying  I  think,  colonel!"  was  the  reply  in  a  hoarse 
voice.  The  gray  mustache  trembled,  and  the  eye  of  the  father 
rested,  moist  but  fiery,  on  tlie  boy. 

"Such  a  child!"  I  said.  "Could  he  have  gone  into  the 
charge  ?" 

"  I  could  not  prevent  him  !"  came,  in  a  groan,  almost  from  the 
old  cavalier.  "  I  forbade  him,  but  he  got  a  musket  somewhere, 
and  went  over  the  breastworks  with  the  rest.  I  saw  him  then 
for  the  first  time,  and  heard  him  laugli  and  cheer.  A  moment 
afterward  he  was  shot — 1  caught  and  raised  him  up,  and  I  have 
ridden  back  through  the  fire,  trying  to  shield  him — but  he  is 
dying!  Look!  his  wound  is  mortal,  I  think — and  so  young — a 
mere  child — never  was  any  one  braver  than  my  poor  child — !" 

A  groan  followed  the  words :  and  bending  down  the  old  cava- 
lier kissed  the  pale  cheek  of  the  boy. 

I  made  no  reply ;   something  seemed  to  choke  me. 

Suddenly  a  grave  voice  uttered  some  words  within  a  few  paces 
of  us,  and  I  turned  quickly.  It  was  General  Lee — riding  calmly 
amid  the  smoke,  and  re-forming  the  stragglers.  Never  have  I 
seen  a  human  being  more  composed. 

General  Davenant  wheeled  and  saluted. 

"  We  are  cut  to  pieces,  general !"  he  said,  with  something  like 
a  fiery  tear  in  his  eye.  "We  did  our  best,  and  we  drove  them  ! — 
but  were  not  supported.  My  brigade — by  brave  old  brigade  is 
gone  1  This  is  my  boy — I  brought  him  out — but  he  is  dying 
too!" 

The  hoarse  tones  and  fiery  tears  of  the  old  cavalier  made  my 
heart  beat.  I  could  see  a  quick  flush  rise  to  the  face  of  General 
Lee.  He  looked  at  the  pale  face  of  the  boy,  over  which  the  dis- 
ordered curls  fell,  with  a  glance  of  inexpressible  sympathy  and 
sweetness.  Then  stretching  out  his  hand,  he  pressed  the  hand 
of  General  Davenant,  and  said  in  his  deep  grave  voice : — 

"  This  has  been  a  sad  day  for  us,  general — a  sad  day,  but  we 
cannot  expect  always  to  gain  victories.  Never  mind — all  this 
has  been  my  fault.  It  is  /  who  have  lost  this  fight,  and  you 
must  help  me  out  of  it  in  the  best  way  you  can."  * 

*  His  words. 


94  MOHUN. 

As  he  uttered  these  measured  words,  General  Lee  sainted 
and  disappeared  in  the  smoke. 

General  Davenant  followecl,  bearing  the  wounded  boy  still 
upon  his  saddle. 

Ten  minutes  afterward,  I  was  riding  to  find  General  Stuart, 
who  had  sent  me  with  a  message  just  before  tlie  charge. 

I  had  gloomy  news  for  him.  The  battle  of  Gettysburg  was 
lost. 


XXVIll. 

UNSHAKEK 

The  sun  was  sinking  red  and  baleful,  when  I  reached  Stuart, 
beyond  the  left  wing  of  the  army. 

From  the  afternoon  of  the  second  to  this  night  of  the  third  of 
July,  the  cavalry  had  met  tliat  of  the  enemy  in  stubborn  conflict. 
The  columns  had  hurled  together.  General  Hampton  had  been 
severely  wounded  in  a  hand-to-hand  encounter  with  sabres,  while 
leading  his  men.  Stuart  had  narrowly  escaped  death  or  capture 
in  the  melee;  and  Fitz  Lee  had  fought  hilt  to  hilt  witli  the  Fed- 
eral horsemen,  repulsing  them,  and  coming  back  laughing,  as  was 
his  wont. 

All  these  scenes  I  have  passed  over,  however.  The  greater 
drama  absorbed  me.  The  gray  horsemen  were  fighting  hero- 
ically ;  but  what  was  that  encounter  of  sabres,  when  the  fate  of 
Gettysburg  was  being  decided  at  Cemetery  Hill? 

So  I  pass  over  all  that,  and  hasten  on  now  to  the  sequel. 
Memory  finds  few  scenes  to  attract  it  in  the  days  that  followed 
Gettysburg. 

But  I  beg  the  reader  to  observe  that  I  should  have  no  scenes 
of  a  humiliating  character  to  draw.  Never  was  army  less 
''whipped"  than  that  of  Lee  after  this  fight!  Do  you  doubt 
that  statement,  reader?  Do  you  think  that  the  Southerners  were 
a  disordered  rabble,  flying  before  the  Federal  bayonets?  a  flock 
of  panic-stricken  sheep,  hurrying  back  to  the  Potomac,  with  the 
bay  of  the  Federal  war-dogs  in  their  ears  ? 


UNSHAKEN".  95 

That  idea — entertained  by  a  number  of  our  Northern  friends — 
is  entirely  fanciful. 

Lee's  army  was  not  even  shaken.  It  was  fagged,  hungry,  out 
of  ammunition,  and  it  retired, — but  not  until  it  had  remained  for 
twenty- four  hours  in  line  of  battle  in  front  of  the  enemy,  per- 
fectly careless  of,  even  inviting,  attack. 

"I  should  have  liked  nothing  better  than  to  have  been  at- 
tacked," said  Longstreet,  "  and  have  no  doubt  I  should  have  given 
those  who  tried,  as  bad  a  reception  as  Pickett  received."  * 

It  may  be  said  that  this  is  the  boast  of  the  defeated  side.  But 
General  ^'sleade,  when  interrogated  before  the  war  committee, 
stated  the  exact  facts. 

"My  opinion  is  now,"  said  Meade  "that  General  Lee  evac- 
uated that  position,  not  from  the  fear  that  he  would  be  dislodged 
from  it  by  any  active  operations  on  ray  part,  but  that  he  was 
fearful  a  force  would  be  sent  to  Harper's  Ferry  to  cut  off  his 
communications That  was  what  caused  him  to  retire." 

"Did  you  discover,"  asked  one  of  the  committee,  " after  tho 
battle  of  Gettysburg,  any  symptoms  of  demoralization  in  Lee's 
army?" 

"No,  sir,"  was  General  Meade's  reply,  "I  saw  nothing  of  that 
kind."  t 

That  statement  was  just,  and  General  Meade  was  too  much  of 
a  gentleman  and  soldier  to  withhold  it.  He  knew  that  his  great 
adversary  was  still  unshaken  and  dangerous — that  the  laurels 
snatched  on  Round  Top  and  Cemetery  Heights  miglit  turn  to 
cypress,  if  the  wounded  lion  were  assailed  in  his  own  position. 

After  the  repulse  of  Pickett's  column  on  the  third  of  July,  Lee 
had  the  choice  of  two  courses — to  either  attack  again  or  retire. 
Meade  was  evidently  determined  to  remain  on  the  defensive. 
To  engage  him,  Lee  must  once  more  charge  the  Cemetery 
Heights.  But  a  third  failure  migiit  be  ruinous  ;  the  Confederate 
ammunition  was  nearly  exliausted  ;  the  communications  with  the 
Potomac  were  threatened, — and  Lee  determined  to  retire. 

That  is  the  true  history  of  the  matter. 

*  His  woi-d3. 

t  General  Meade's  testimony  may  l>e  found  in  the  Eeport  on  tlie  Conduct  of  tho 
War.   I'art  I.,  p.  337. 


96  MOIIUN". 

The  force  which  fell  back  before  Meade  was  an  array  of  veter- 
ans, with  unshaken  nerves.  It  required  only  a  glance  to  see  that 
these  men  were  still  dangerous.  They  were  ready  to  fight  again, 
and  many  raged  at  the  retreat.  Like  Lee's  "  old  war  horse," 
they  were  anxious  to  try  another  struggle,  to  have  the  enemy  re- 
turn the  compliment,  and  come  over  to  charge  theni ! 

Tlien  commenced  that  singular  retreat. 

The  trains  retired  in  a  long  line  stretching  over  many  miles,  by 
the  Chambersburg  road,  while  the  army  marched  by  the  shorter 
route,  between  the  trains  and  the  enemy,  ready  to  turn  and  tear 
the  blue  huntsmen  if  they  attempted  to  pursue. 

So  the  famous  army  of  Northern  Virginia — great  in  defeat  as 
in  victory — took  its  slow  way  back  toward  the  soil  of  Virginia. 
Never  was  spectacle  stranger  than  that  retreat  from  Gettysburg. 
The  b£ylly  wounded  had  been  sent  with  the  army  trains;  but 
many  insisted  upon  keeping  their  places  in  the  ranks.  There 
was  something  grim  and  terrible  in  these  bandaged  arms,  and 
faces,  and  forms  of  Lee's  old  soldiers — but  you  did  not  think  of 
that  as  you  looked  into  their  pale  faces.  "What  struck  you  in 
those  eyes  and  lips  was  the  fire,  and  the  smile  of  an  unconquer- 
al)le  courage.  Never  had  I  witnessed  resolution  more  splendid 
and  invincible.  In  the  ragged  foot  soldiers  of  the  old  army  I 
could  see  plainly  the  evidences  of  a  nerve  which  no  peril  could 
sliake.  Was  it  race — or  the  cause — or  confidence,  through  all,  in 
Lee  ?  I  know  not,  but  it  was  there.  These  men  were  utterly 
careless  whether  the  enemy  followed  them  or  not.  They  were 
retreating  unsubdued.  The  terrible  scenes  through  which  they 
had  passed,  the  sights  of  horror,  the  ghastly  wounds,  the  blood, 
agony,  death  of  the  last  few  days  had  passed  away  from  their 
memories  ;  and  they  went  along  with  supreme  indilference,  ready 
to  fight  at  any  moment,  and  certain  that  they  could  whip  any 
enemy  who  assailed  them. 

General  Meade  did  not  attempt  that.  He  kept  Lee  at  arm's- 
length,  and  followed  so  slowly  that  the  civilians  were  in  enor- 
mous wrath,  and  looked  de  haut  en  has  on  him — on  this  timid 
soldier  who  had  not  cut  Lee  to  pieces. 

Between  Meade,  however,  and  the  bold  civilians,  there  was  this 
enormous  difference.     The  soldier  knew  the  mettle  of  the  man 


UNSHAKEN.  97 

and  tbe  array  retiring  from  Gettysburg.  The  civilians  did  not. 
Meade  retained  tlie  fruits  of  his  victory  over  Lee.  The  civilians 
would  have  lost  them. 

At  Williamsport,  Lee  halted  and  drew  up  his  army  in  line  of 
battle.  The  Potomac,  swollen  by  rains,  presented  an  impassable 
obstacle. 

Meade,  following  slowly,  was  met  at  every  step  by  Stuart's 
cavalry  ;  but  finally  faced  his  adversary. 

Every  thing  presaged  a  great  battle,  and  Lee's  cannon  from  the 
hills  south  of  Hagerstown  laughed, 

"Come  on!" 

But  General  Meade  did  not  come.  Lee,  standing  at  bay  with 
the  army  of  Northern  Virginia,  was  a  formidable  adversary,  and 
the  Federal  commander  had  little  desire  to  charge  the  Confeder- 
ates as  they  had  charged  him  at  Gettysburg— in  position. 

Day  after  day  the  adversaries  remained  in  line  of  battle  facing 
each  other. 

Lee  neither  invited  nor  declined  battle. 

At  last  the  Potomac  subsided :  Lee  put  his  army  in  motion, 
and  crossing  on  a  pontoon  at  Falling  Waters  took  up  his  position 
on  the  south  bank  of  the  river. 

Stuart  followed,  bringing  up  the  rear  with  his  cavalry  column; 
and  the  whole  army  was  once  more  on  the  soil  of  Virginia. 

They    had    come    back    after    a    great    march    and   a   great 

battle. 

The  march  carried  their  flags  to  the  south  bank  of  the  Sus- 
quehanna; the  battle  resulted  in  their  retreat  to  the  south  bank 
of  the  Potomac.  Thus  nothing  had  been  gained,  and  nothing 
lost.  But  alas !  the  South  had  counted  on  a  great  and  decisive 
victory.  When  Lee  failed  to  snatch  that  from  the  bloody  heights 
of  Gettysburg — when,  for  want  of  ammunition,  and  to  guard  his 
communications,  he  returned  to  the  Potomac— then  the  people 
began  to  lose  heart,  and  say  that,  since  the  death  of  Jackson,  the 
cause  was  lo^t. 

Gettysburg  in  fact  is  the  turning  point  of  the  struggle.  From 
that  day  dated  the  decadence  of  the  Southern  arms. 

At  Chancellorsville,  the  ascending  steps  of  victory  culminated 
— and  stopped. 


98  MOHUN. 

At  Gettysburg,  the  steps  began  to  descend  into  the  valley  of 
defeat,  and  the  shadow  of  death. 

What  I  shall  show  the  reader  in  this  final  series  of  my  mem- 
oirs, is  Lee  and  liis  paladins — officers  and  privates  of  the  old 
army  of  Northern  Virginia — figliting  on  to  the  end,  true  in 
defeat  as  in  victory,  in  the  dark  days  as  in  the  bright — closing 
up  the  thin  ranks,  and  standing  by  the  colors  to  the  last. 

That  picture  may  be  gloomy — but  it  will  be  sublime,  too. 


UNDEPw    "STUART'S    OAK."  99 


BOOK   II. 

THE     FLOWEE     OF     CAVALIEES 


I. 

UJs-DER   "STUART'S   OAK" 

Crossing  to  the  south  bank  of  the  Potomac,  Stuart  established 
bis  head-quarters  at  "  The  Bower,"  an  old  mansion  on  the 
Opequon. 

The  family  at  the  ancient  hall  were  Stuart's  cherished  friends, 
and  our  appearance  now,  with  the  red  flag  floating  and  the 
bugle  sounding  a  gay  salute  as  we  ascended  the  hill,  was  hailed 
with  enthusiasm  and  rejoicing. 

All  at  the  "Bower,"  loved  Stuart;  they  love  him  to-day;  and 
will  love  him  alwavs. 

His  tents  were  pitched  on  a  grassy  knoll  in  the  extensive 
grounds,  beneath  some  ancient  oaks  resembling  those  seen  in 
English  parks.  It  was  a  charming  spot.  Through  the  openings 
in  the  summer  foliage  you  saw  the  old  walls  of  the  hall.  At  the 
foot  of  the  hill,  the  Opequon  stole  away,  around  the  base  of  a  fir- 
clad  precipice,  its  right  bank  lined  with  immense  white-armed 
sycamores.  Beyond,  extended  a  range  of  hills  :  and  in  the  far 
west,  the  Xorth  Mountain  mingled  its  azure  billows  with  the 
blue  of  the  summer  skv. 

Such  was  the  beautiful  landscape  which  greeted  our  eyes : 
such  the  spot  to  which  the  winds  of  war  had  wafted  us.  Good 
old  "Bower,"  and  good  days  there  !  How  well  I  remember  you ! 
After  the  long,  hard  march,  and  the  incessant  fighting,  it  was 
charming  to  settle  down  for  a  brief  space  in  this  paradise — to 
listen  idly  to  the  murmur  of  the  Opequon,  or  the  voice  of  the 
summer  winds  amid  the  foliage  of  the  century  oaks ! 


100  MOHUN. 

The  great  tree  on  the  grassy  knoll,  under  which  Staart  erected 
his  own  tent,  is  called  "Stuart's  Oak  "  to  this  day.  Ko  axe  will 
ever  harm  it,  I  hope;  gold  could  not  purchase  it;  for  tender 
liearts  cherish  the  gnarled  trunk  and  liuge  boughs,  as  a  souvenir 
of  the  great  soldier  whom  it  slieltered  in  that  summer  of  1863. 

So  we  were  anchored  for  a  little  space,  and  enjoyed  keenly  the 
repose  of  this  summer  nook  on  the  Opequon.  Soon  the  bugle 
would  sound  again,  and  new  storms  would  buffet  us;  meanwhile, 
we  laughed  and  sang,  snatching  the  bloom  of  the  peaceful  hours, 
inhahng  the  odors,  listening  to  the  birds,  and  idly  dreaming. 

For  myself,  I  had  more  dreams  than  the  rest  of  the  gray  people 
there !  The  Bower  was  not  a  strange  place  to  me.  My  brethren 
of  the  statf  used  to  laugh,  and  say  that,  wherever  we  went,  in  Vir- 
ginia, I  found  kins-people.  I  found  near  and  dear  ones  at  the  old 
house  on  the  Opequon  ;  and  a  hundred  spots  which  recalled  my 
lost  youth.  Every  object  carried  me  back  to  the  days  that  are 
dead.  The  blue  Ijills,  the  stream,  the  great  oaks,  and  the  hall 
smiled  on  me.  How  familiar  the  portraits,  and  wide  fireplaces, 
and  decrs'  antlers.  The  pictures  of  hawking  scenes,  with  ladies 
and  gentlemen  in  the  queerest  costumes;  the  engravings  of 
famous  race-horses,  hanging  between  guns,  bird-bags  and  fishing- 
rods  in  the  wide  hall — these  were  not  mere  dead  objects,  but  old 
and  long-loved  acquaintances.  I  had  known  them  in  my  child- 
hood ;  looked  with  delight  upon  them  in  my  boyhood ;  now  they 
seemed  to  salute  me,  murmuring — ''  Welcome !  you  remember 
us!" 

Thus  the  hall,  the  grounds,  the  pictures,  the  most  trifling  ob- 
ject brought  back  to  me,  in  that  summer  of  1863,  a  hundred 
memories  of  the  years  that  had  flown.  Years  of  childhood  and 
youth,  of  mirth  and  joy,  such  as  we  felt  before  war  had  come  to 
liarassus;  when  I  swam  in  the  Opequon,  or  roamed  the  hills, 
looking  into  bright  eyes,  where  life  was  so  fresh  and  so  young. 
The  ''dew  was  on  the  blossom"  tjjen,  the  flower  in  the  bud. 
Now  the  bloom  had  passed  away,  and  the  dew  dried  up  in  the 
hot  war-atmosphere.  It  was  a  worn  and  weary  soldier  who 
came  back  to  the  scenes  of  his  vouth. 

Suddenly,  as  I  mused  thus,  dreaming  idly  under  the  great  oak 
which  sheltered  me,  I  heard  a  voice  from  Stuart's  tent,  sending 


UNDER    "STUART'S     OAK."  101 

its  sonorous  music  on  the  air.     It  was  the  great  cavalier  singing 
lustilv — 

"The  dew  is  on  the  blossom  I" 

At  all  hours  of  the  day  you  could  hear  that  gay  voice.  Stuart's 
head-quarters  were  full  of  tlie  most  mirthful  sounds  and  sights. 
The  knoll  was  alive  with  picturesque  forms.  The  horses,  tethered 
to  the  boughs,  champed  their  bits  and  pawed  impatiently.  The 
bright  saddle-blankets  shone  under  the  saddles  covered  with  gay 
decorations.  Young  officers  with  clanking  sabres  and  rattling 
spurs  moved  to  and  fro.  In  front  of  the  head-quarters  tent  the 
red  battle-flag  caught  the  sunshine  in  its  dazzling  folds. 

Suddenly,  a  new  charm  is  added  to  the  picturesque  scene. 
Maiden  figures  advance  over  the  grassy  lawn ;  bright  eyes  glim- 
mer ;  glossy  ringlets  are  lifted  by  the  fingers  of  the  wind ;  tinkling 
laughter  is  heard ;— and  over  all  rings  the  wild  sonorous  music  of 
the  bugle ! 

The  days  pass  rapidly  thus.  The  nights  bring  merriment,  not 
sleep.  The  general  goes  with  his  stafif  to  the  hospitable  mansion, 
and  soon  the  great  drawing-room  is  full  of  music  and  laughter. 
The  song,  the  dance,  the  rattling  banjo  follow.  The  long  hours 
flit  by  like  a  flock  of  summer  birds,  and  Sweeney,  our  old  friend 
Sweeney,  is  the  king  of  the  revel. 

For  Sweeney  rattles  as  before  on  his  banjo;  and  the  "Old  Gray 
Horse  "  flourishes  still  in  imperishable  youth  !  It  is  the  same  old 
Sweeney,  with  his  mild  and  deferential  courtesy,  his  obliging 
smile,  his  unapproachable  skill  in  "picking  on  the  string."  List- 
en! his  voice  rings  again  as  in  the  days  of  '61  and  '62.  He  is 
singing  still  "Oh  Johnny  Booker,  help  this  nigger!"  "  Stephen, 
come  back,  come  back,  Stephen !"  "  Out  of  the  window  I  did  sail !" 
"Sweet  Evelina,"  and  the  grand,  magnificent  epic  which  advises 
you  to  "  Jine  the  Cavalry!" 

Hagan  listens  to  him  yonder  with  a  twinkle  of  the  eye — Hagan 
the  black-bearded  giant,  the  brave  whose  voice  resembles  thun- 
der, the  devotee  and  factotum  of  Stuart,  whom  he  loves.  And 
Sweeney  rattles  on.  You  laugh  loud  as  you  listen.  The  banjo 
laughs  louder  than  all,  and  the  great  apartment  is  full  of  uproar, 
and  mirth,  and  dance. 

Then  the  couples  sink  back  exhausted;  a  deep  silence  follows; 


102  MOnUN. 

Sweeney  has  made  you  laugh,  and  is  now  going  to  make  you 
sigli.  Listen !  You  can  scarcely  believe  that  the  singer  is  the 
same  person  who  has  just  been  rattling  through  the  "  Old  Gray 
Horse."  Sweeney  is  no  longer  mirthful;  his  voice  sighs  instead 
of  laughing.  He  is  singing  his  tender  and  exquisite  "  Faded 
Flowers."  He  is  telling  you  in  tones  as  soft  as  the  sigh  of  the 
wind  in  the  great  oaks,  how 

"The  cold,  chilly  winds  of  December, 
Stole  my  flowers,  my  companions  from  me !" 

Alas !  the  cold,  chilly  winds  of  the  coming  winter  will  blow 
over  the  grave  of  the  prince  of  musicians  !  Sweeney,  the  pride 
and  charm  of  the  cavalry  head-quarters,  is  going  to  pass  away, 
and  leave  his  comrades  and  his  banjo  forever! 

You  would  say  that  the  future  throws  its  shadow  on  the 
present.  Sweeney's  tones  are  so  sweet  and  sorrowful,  that  many 
eyes  grow  moist — like  Rubini,  he  "has  tears  in  his  voice."  The 
melting  strains  ascend  and  sigh  through  the  old  hall.  When  they 
die  away  like  a  wind  in  the  distance,  the  company  remuin  silent, 
plunged  in  sad  and  dreamy  revery. 

Suddenly  Stuart  starts  up  and  exclaims : — 

"Stop  that,  Sweeney!  you  will  make  everybody  die  of  the 
blues.  Sing  the  '  Old  Gray  Horse '  again,  or  '  Jine  the  Cav- 
alry!'" 

Sweeney  smiles  and  obeys.  Then,  the  gay  song  ended,  he  com- 
mences a  reel.  The  banjo  laughs ;  his  flying  fingers  race  over 
the  strings  ;  youths  and  maidens  whirl  from  end  to  end  of  the 
great  room — on  the  walls  the  "old  people"  in  ruffles  and  short- 
Avaisted  dresses,  look  down  smiling  on  their  little  descendants! 

O  gay  summer  nights  on  the  banks  of  the  Opequon  !  you  have 
flown,  but  linger  still  in  memory ! 

In  the  autumn  of  1867,  I  revisited  the  old  hall  where  tliose 
summer  days  of  1863  had  passed  in  mirth  and  enjoyment;  and 
then  I  wandered  away  to  the  grassy  knoll  w^here  "  Stuart's  oak" 
still  stands.  The  sight  of  the  great  tree  brought  back  a  whole 
world  of  memories.  Seated  on  one  of  its  huge  roots,  beneath 
the  dome   of  foliage  just  touched  by  the   finger  of  autumn,  I 


BACK    TO    THE    RAPIDAX.  103 

seemed  to  see  all  the  past  rise  up  again  and  move  before  me,  with 
its  gallant  figures,  its  bright  scenes,  and  brighter  ej^es.  Alas ! 
those  days  were  dust,  and  Stuart  sang  and  laughed  no  more.  The 
grass  was  green  again,  and  the  birds  were  singing ;  but  no  mar- 
tial forms  moved  there,  no  battle-flag  rippled,  no  voice  was  heard. 
Stuart  was  dead ; — his  sword  rusting  under  the  dry  leaves  of 
Hollywood,  and  his  battle-flag  was  furled  forever. 

That  hour  under  the  old  oak,  in  the  autumn  of  1867,  was  one 
of  the  saddest  that  I  have  ever  spent. 

The  hall  was  there  as  before  ;  the  clouds  floated,  the  stream 
murmured,  the  wind  sighed  in  the  great  tree,  as  when  Stuart's 
tent  shone  under  it.  But  the  splendor  had  vanished,  the  laugh- 
ter was  hushed — it  was  a  company  of  ghosts  that  gathered  around 
me,  and  their  faint  voices  sounded  from  another  world  ! 


11. 

BACK    TO    THE    RAPIDAX. 

But  this  is  a  book  of  incident,  worthy  reader.  'We  have  little 
time  for  musing  recollections.  The  halts  are  brief;  the  bugle  is 
sounding  to  horse;  events  drag  us,  and  we  ace  again  in  the 
saddle. 

Those  gay  hours  on  the  Opequan  were  too  agreeable  to  last. 
The  old  hall  was  a  sort  of  oasis  in  the  desert  of  war  only.  We 
paused  for  an  instant ;  rested  under  the  green  trees ;  heard  the 
murmur  of  the  waters — then  the  caravan  moved,  breasting  the 
arid  wastes  once  more,  and  the  coming  simoom. 

Stuart's  head-quarters  disappeared — we  bade  our  kind  friends 
good-bye — and,  mounting,  set  out  for  the  Lowland,  whither  Lee's 
column  was  then  marching. 

The  short  lull  had  been  succeeded  by  new  activity.  Meade 
was  advancing  along  the  east  slope  of  the  Blue  Ridge  to  cut  Lee 
off  from  Richmond.  But  the  adventure  succeeded  no  better  now 
than  in  1862.     Meade  failed,  as  McClellan  had  failed  before  him. 

The  army  passed  the  Blue  Ridge;  drove  back  the  force  sent  to 
5 


104  MOHUN. 

assail  them  in  flank  as  they  moved;  and  descended  to  Culpepor, 
from  which  they  withdrew  behind  tlie  Rapidan.  Here  Lee  took 
up  his  position,  crowned  the  soutli  bank  with  liis  artillery,  and, 
facing  General  Meade,  occupying  the  north  bank,  rested. 

Such  had  been  the  result  of  the  great  campaign,  in  its  merely 
iiiilitary  aspect. 

Lee  had  invaded  the  North,  delivered  battle  on  the  territory 
of  the  enemy,  suffered  a  repulse,  retired,  and  was  again  occupy- 
ing nearly  the  same  ground  which  he  had  occupied  before  the 
advance.  Moving  backward  and  forward  on  the  great  chessboard 
of  war,  the  two  adversaries  seemed  to  have  gained  or  lost  noth- 
ing. The  one  was  not  flushed  with  victory ;  the  other  was  not 
prostrated  by  defeat.  Each  went  into  camp,  ceased  active  oper- 
ations, and  prepared  for  the  new  conflict  which  was  to  take 
place  before  the  end  of  the  year. 

I  shall  record  some  incidents  of  that  rapid  and  shifting  cam- 
paign, beginning  and  ending  in  the  month  of  October;  then  I 
pass  on  to  the  more  important  and  exciting  pages  of  my  memoirs : 
the  miglity  struggle  between  Lee  and  Grant. 

To  return  for  a  moment  to  the  cavalry.  It  held  the  front 
along  the  Rapidan  and  Robertson  rivers,  from  Madison  Court- 
House  on  the  left,  to  Chancellorsville  on  the  right.  Stuart  kept 
his  lynx-eye  on  all  the  fords  of  the  two  rivers,  having  his  head- 
quarters in  the  forks  of  the  streams  not  far  from  their  junction. 

T  should  like  to  speak  of  the  charming  hours  spent  at  the  hos- 
pitable mansion  near  whicb  head-quarters  had  been  established 
The  sun  shone  bright,  at  the  house  on  the  grassy  hill,  but  not  so 
bright  as  the  eyes  which  gave  us  friendly  welcome.  Years  have 
passed  since  that  time — all  things  have  changed — but  neither  time 
or  the  new  scenes  will  banish  from  some  hearts  the  memory  of 
that  beautiful  face,  and  the  music  of  that  voice!  We  salute  to-day 
as  we  saluted  in  the  past — health  and  happiness  attend  the  fair 
face  and  the  kindly  heart ! 

I  saw  much  of  Mohun  in  those  days,  and  became  in  course  of 
time  almost  his  intimate  friend.  He  exhibited  still  a  marked  re- 
serve on  the  subject  of  his  past  life :  but  I  thought  I  could  see 
that  the  ice  was  melting.  Day  by  day  he  grew  gayer — gradually 
his  cj*nicism  seemed  leaving  him.     Who  was  this  singular  man. 


THE    OPEXING    OF    THE    HUXT.  105 

and  what  was  his  past  history  ?  I  often  asked  myself  these 
questions — he  persisted  in  giving  me  no  clue  to  the  secret — but  I 
felt  a  presentiment  that  some  day  I  should  "  pluck  out  the  heart 
of  his  mystery." 

So  much,  in  passing,  for  my  relations  with  Mohun.  We  had 
begun  to  be  friends,  and  the  chance  of  war  was  going  to  throw 
us  together  often.  I  had  caught  one  or  two  glimpses  of  a  past 
full  of  ''  strange  matters  " — in  the  hours  that  were  coming  I  was 
to  have  every  mystery  revealed. 

Meanwhile  Lee  was  resting,  but  preparing  for  another  blow. 
His  army  was  in  the  highest  spirits.  The  camps  buzzed,  and 
laughed,  and  were  full  of  mirth.  Gettysburg  was  forgotten,  or 
if  remembei'ed,  it  only  served  to  inflame  the  troops,  and  inspire 
them  with  a  passionate  desire  to  "try  again."  In  the  blaze  of  a 
new  victory,  the  old  defeat  would  disappear. 

Such  was  the  condition  of  things  in  the  army  of  Xortheru 
Virginia  in  the  first  days  of  October,  1863. 


III. 


THE   OPEXIXG  OF  THE   HUXT. 

It  soon  became  obvious  that  Lee  had  resolved  to  strike  a  blow 
at  his  adversary. 

How  to  do  so  with  advantage  seemed  a  hard  problem.  Be- 
tween the  opponents  lay  the  Rapidan,  which  would  be  an  ugly 
obstacle  in  the  path  of  an  army  retreating  after  defeat — and  the 
same  considerations  which  deterred  General  Aleade  from  attack- 
ing Lee,  operated  to  prevent  a  like  movement  on  the  part  of  his 
adversary. 

Thus  an  advance  of  the  Southern  army  on  the  enemy's  front 
was  far  too  hazardous  to  be  thought  of — and  the  only  course 
left  was  to  assail  their  flank.  This  could  either  be  done  by  cross- 
ing lower  down,  and  cutting  the  enemy  ofi"  from  the  Rappahan- 
nock, or  crossing  higher  uj^,  and  cutting  him  oflf  from  Manassas. 


106  MOHUN. 

Lee  determinecl  on  the  latter— and  in  a  bright  morning  early  in 
October  the  great  movement  began. 

Leaving  Fitz  Lee's  cavalry  and  a  small  force  of  infantry  in  the 
works  on  the  Rapidan  fronting  the  enemy,  General  Lee  put  his 
columns  in  motion  for  the  upper  fords. 

The  men  hailed  the  movement  ^vith  cheers  of  delight.  As 
they  wound  along,  with  glittering  bayonets,  through  the  hills 
and  across  the  river,  you  could  easily  see  that  the  old  army  of 
Northern  Virginia  was  still  in  full  feather — that  Gettysburg  iiad 
not  shaken  it — and  that  Lee  could  count  on  it  for  new  campaign.s 
and  harder  combats  than  any  in  the  past. 

The  head  of  the  column  was  directed  toward  Madison  Court- 
Ilouse,  which  would  enable  Lee  either  to  advance  directly  upon 
the  enemy's  flank  by  the  Sperryville  road,  or  continue  his  flank 
movement,  pass  the  Rappahannock,  and  cut  off  his  opponent  from 
"Washington. 

The  advance  was  an  inspiring  spectacle.  The  weather  was 
magnificent,  and  the  crimson  foliage  of  the  wood  rivalled  the 
tints  of  the  red  battle-flags,  fluttering  above  the  long  glittering 
hedge  of  bayonets. 

Stuart's  cavalry  had  moved  out  on  the  right  flank  to  protect 
the  column  from  the  observation  of  the  enemy.  The  campaign  of 
October,  1863,  had  opened. 

It  was  to  be  one  of  the  briefest,  but  most  adventurous  move- 
ments of  the  war.  Deciding  little,  it  was  yet  rich  in  incident 
and  dramatic  scenes.  A  brilliant  comedy,  as  it  were — just  tinged 
with  tragedy — was  that  rapid  and  shifting  raid  of  Lee's  whole 
army,  on  Meade.  Blood,  jests,  laughter,  mourning — these  were 
strangely  mingled,  in  the  cavalry  movements  at  least :  and  to 
these  I  proceed. 

From  the  heights,  whence  you  see  only  the  "great  events,'* 
the  movements  of  armies,  and  the  decisive  battles,  let  us  now 
descend  into  the  lowland,  good  reader.      I  will  lay  before  you» 
some  incidents,  not  to  be  found  in  the  "official  reports;"  and  I 
promise  to  carry  you  on  rapidly  ! 


THE    GAME    A-FOOT.  107 

lY. 

THE   GAME   A-FOOT. 

It  was  a  magnificent  morning  of  October. 

Stuart  leaped  to  saddle,  and,  preceded  by  his  red  flag  rippling 
gayly  in  the  wind,  set  out  from  his  head-quarters  in  the  direction 
of  the  mountains. 

He  was  entering  on  his  last  great  cavalry  campaign — and  it 
was  to  be  one  of  his  most  successful  and  splendid. 

The  great  soldier,  as  he  advanced  that  morning,  was  the  beau 
ideal  of  a  cavalier.  His  black  plume  floated  proudly  ;  his  sabre 
rattled;  his  eyes  danced  with  joy;  his  huge  mustache  curled 
with  laughter  ;  his  voice  was  gay,  sonorous,  full  of  enjoyment  of 
life,  health,  the  grand  autumn,  and  the  adventurous  and  splendid 
scenes  which  his  imagination  painted.  On  his  brow  he  seemed 
already  to  feel  the  breath  of  victory. 

It  was  rather  an  immense  war-machine,  than  a  man  which  I 
looked  at  on  that  morning  of  October,  1863.  Grand  physical 
health,  a  perfectly  fearless  soul,  the  keenest  thirst  for  action,  a 
stubborn  dasli  which  nothing  could  break  down — all  this  could 
be  seen  in  the  face  and  form  of  Stuart,  as  he  advanced  to  take 
command  of  his  column  that  day. 

On  the  next  morning  at  daylight  he  had  struck  the  enemy. 

Their  outposts  of  cavalry,  supported  by  infantry,  were  at 
Thoroughfare  Mountain,  a  small  range  above  the  little  village  of 
James  City.  Here  Stuart  came  suddenly  upon  them,  and  drove 
in  their  pickets  : — a  moment  afterward  he  was  galloping  forward 
with  the  gavetv  of  a  huntsman  after  a  fox. 

A  courier  came  to  meet  him  from  the  advance  guard,  riding  at 
full  gallop. 

"  Well !  "  said  Stuart. 

''  A  regiment  of  infantry,  general." 

"Where?" 

"  Yonder  in  the  gap." 

And  he  pointed  to  a  gorge  in  the  little  mountain  before  us. 

Stuart  wheeled  and  beckoned  to  Gordon,   the   brave   North 


108  MOHUN. 

Carolinian,  who  had  made  the  stubborn  charge  at  Barbee's,  in 
18G2,  when  Pelham  was  attacked,  front  and  rear,  by  tlie  Federal 
cavalry. 

"  We  have  flushed  a  regiment  of  infantry,  Gordon.  Can  you 
break  them  ?" 

*'  I  think  I  can,  general.  " 

The  handsome  face  of  the  soldier  glowed — his  bright  eyes 
flashed. 

"  All  right.  Get  ready,  then,  to  attack  in  front.  I  will  take 
Young,  and  strike  them  a^  the  same  moment  on  the  right  flank!" 

"With  which  words  Stuart  went  at  a  gallop  and  joined  Young. 

That  gay  and  gallant  Georgian  was  at  the  head  of  his  column ; 
in  his  sparkling  eyes,  and  the  smile  which  showed  the  white 
teeth  under  the  black  mustache,  I  saw  the  same  expression  of 
reckless  courage  which  I  had  noticed  on  the  day  of  Fleetwood, 
when  the  young  Georgian  broke  the  column  on  the  hill. 

Stuart  explained  his  design  in  three  words: — 

"  Are  you  ready?" 

"All  ready,  general!" 

And  Young's  sabre  flashed  from  the  scabbard. 

At  the  same  instant  the  crash  of  carbines  in  front,  indicated 
Gordon's  charge. 

Young  darted  to  the  head  of  his  column. 

"Charge!"  he  shouted. 

And  leading  the  column,  he  descended  like  a  thunderbolt  on 
the  enemy's  flank. 

As  he  did  so,  Gordon's  men  rushed  with  wild  cheers  into  the 
gorge.  Shouts,  carbine-shots,  musket-shots,  yells  resounded.  In 
five  minutes  the  Federal  infantry,  some  three  hundred  in  num- 
ber, were  scattered  in  headlong  flight,  leaving  the  ground  strewed 
with  new  muskets,  whose  barrels  shone  like  burnished  silver. 

"  Good !"  Stuart  exclaimed,  as  long  lines  of  prisoners  appeared, 
going  to  the  rear,  "  a  fair  beginning,  at  least !" 

And  he  rode  on  rapidly. 


( 


THE    OHASE.  109 

V. 

THE    CHASE. 

The  cavalry  pressed  forward  without  halting  and  reached  the 
hills  ahove  James  City — a  magniloquent  name,  but  the  "  city  " 
was  a  small  affair — a  mere  village  nestling  down  amid  an  amphi 
theatre  of  hills. 

On  the  opposite  range  we  saw  the  enemy's  cavalry  drawn  up  •, 
and,  as  we  afterward  learned,  commanded  by  General  Kilpat- 
rick. 

They  presented  a  handsome  spectacle  in  the  gay  autumn  sun- 
shine ;  but  we  did  not  attack  them.  Stuart's  orders  were  to  pro- 
tect the  march  of  Ewell  from  observation;  and  this  he  accom- 
plished by  simply  holding  the  Federal  cavalry  at  arm's-length. 
So  a  demonstration  only  was  made.  Skirmishers  advanced,  and 
engaged  the  enemy.  The  whole  day  thus  passed  in  apparent 
failure  to  drive  the  Federals. 

A  single  incident  marked  the  day.  Stuart  had  taken  his  posi- 
tion, with  his  staff  and  couriers,  on  a  hill.  Here,  with  his  battle- 
flag  floating,  he  watcl.ied  the  skirmishers, — and  then  gradually, 
the  whole  party,  stretched  on  the  grass,  began  to  doze. 

They  were  to  have  a  rude  waking.  I  was  lying,  holding  my 
bridle,  half  asleep,  when  an  earthquake  seemed  to  open  beneath 
me.  A  crasli  like  thunder  accompanied  it.  I  rose  quickly,  cov- 
ered with  dust.  A  glance  explained  the  whole.  The  enemy  had 
directed  a  gun  upon  the  tempting  group  over  which  the  flag 
rose,  and  the  percussion-shell  had  fallen  and  burst  in  oui-  midst. 
Strangest  of  all,  no  one  was  hurt. 
Stuart  laughed,  and  mounted  his  horse. 

"A  good  shot!"  he  said,  " look  at  Surry's  hat!"  which,  on 
examination,  I  found  covered  half  an  inch  deep  with  earth. 

In  fact,  the  shell  had  burst  within  three  feet  of  my  head — was 
a  "line  shot,"  and  with  a  little  more  elevation,  would  have  just 
reached  me.  Then,  exit  Surry !  in  a  most  unmilitary  manner,  by 
the  bursting  of  a  percussion-shell. 

At  nightfall  the  enemy  was  still  in  position,  and  Stuart  had 
not  advanced. 


110  MOHUN. 

We  spent  the  night  at  a  farm-house,  and  were  in  the  saddle 
again  at  dav\n. 

The  hills  opposite  were  deserted.  The  enemy  had  retreated. 
Stuart  pushed  on  their  track  down  the  Sperryville  road,  passed 
tiie  village  of  Griffinshurg,  and  near  Stonehouse  Mountain  came 
on,  and  pushed  them  rapidly  back  on  Culpeper  Court-Ilouse. 

All  at  once  quick  firing  was  heard  on  our  right. 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  Stuart  asked. 

''An  infentry  regiment,  general!"  said  Weller,  one  of  our 
couriers,  galloping  quickly  up. 

The  words  acted  upon  Stuart  like  the  blow  of  a  sword.  A  wild 
excitement  seemed  to  seize  hira. 

"Bring  up  a  squadron!"  he  shouted — for  we  were  riding  ahead 
without  support ;  "  bring  up  the  cavalry  !  I  am  going  to  charge  I 
Bring  me  a  squadron  !" 

And  drawing  his  sword,  Stuart  rushed  at  full  gallop,  alone  and 
unattended,  toward  the  Federal  infantry,  whose  gun-barrels  were 
seen  glittering  in  the  woods. 

Never  had  I  seen  him  more  excited.  He  was  plainly  on  fire 
with  the  idea  of  capturing  the  whole  party. 

The  staff  scattered  to  summon  the  cavalry,  and  soon  a  com- 
pany came  on  at  full  gallop.  It  was  the  '*  Jeflferson  Company," 
under  that  brave  oflScer,  Captain  George  Baylor. 

"  Charge,  and  cut  them  down!"  shouted  Stuart,  his  drawn 
sword  flashing  as  he  forced  his  horse  over  fallen  trees  and  the 
debris  of  the  great  deserted  camp. 

A  fine  spectacle  followed.  As  the  Federal  infantry  double- 
quicked  up  a  slope,  Baylor  charged. 

As  his  men  darted  upon  them,  they  suddenly  halted,  came  to  a 
front-face,  and  the  long  line  of  gun-barrels  fell,  as  though  they 
were  parts  of  some  glittering  war-machine. 

The  muzzles  spouted  flame,  and  the  cavalry  received  the  fire  at 
thirty  yards. 

It  seemed  to  check  them,  but  it  did  not.  They  had  come  to  an 
impassable  ditch.  In  another  moment,  the  infantry  broke,  every 
man  for  himself,  and  making  a  detour,  the  cavalry  pursued,  and 
captured  large  numbers. 

For  the  second  time  Stuart  had  charged  infantry  and  broken 


THE     CHASE.  Ill 

them.  Pushing  on  now  through  the  great  deserted  camps  of 
Stonehouse   Mountain,  he  descended  upon  Culpeper. 

The  enemy's  cavalry  retreated,  made  a  stand  on  the  hills 
beyond,  with  their  artillery;  and  seemed  to  have  resolved  to 
retreat  no  farther. 

Suddenly  the  thunder  of  artillery  came  up  from  the  Rapidan. 
I  was  sitting  ray  horse  near  Stuart  and  Gordon.  They  were  both 
laughing — indeed,  Stuart  seemed  laughing  throughout  the  cam- 
paign. 

"That  is  Fitz  Lee!"  he  said;  "he  has  crossed  and  driven 
them." 

And  turning  round, — 

"  I  wish  you  would  go  to  General  Lee,  Surry — you  will  find 
him  toward  Griffinsburg — and  tell  him  we  are  driving  the  enemy, 
and  Fitz  Lee  seems  to  be  coming  up." 

I  saluted,  and  left  the  two  generals  laughing  as  before. 

In  half  an  hour  I  had  found  General  Lee.  He  was  in  camp  on 
the  Sperryville  road,  and  was  talking  to  Ewell. 

It  was  a  singular  contrast.  Lee,  robust,  ruddy,  erect,  with  his 
large  frank  eye — Ewell,  slight,  emaciated,  pale,  with  small  pier- 
cing eyes,  and  limping  on  his  crutch. 

"Thank  you,  colonel,"  General  Lee  said,  with  his  grave  but 
charming  courtesy  ;  "  tell  General  Stuart  to  continue  to  press 
them  back  toward  the  river." 

And  turning  to  Ewell : — 

"You  had  better  move  on  with  your  command,  general,"  he 
said,  in  his  measured  voice. 

Ewell  bowed  and  turned  to  obev — I  returned  to  Stuart. 

He  was  pushing  the  Federal  cavalry  "  from  pillar  to  post." 
Driven  back  from  the  hill,  where  they  had  planted  their  artil- 
lerv,  thev  had  retreated  on  Brandv  ;  Stuart  had  followed  like  a 
fate  ;  Gordon,  sent  round  to  the  left,  struck  their  right  flank 
with  his  old  sabreurs  ;  Fitz  Lee,  coming  up  on  the  right,  thun- 
dered down  on  their  left — and  in  the  woods  around  Brandy  took 
place  one  of  those  cavalry  combats  which,  as  my  friends,  the 
novelists  say,  "must  be  seen  to  be  appreciated  I"  If  the  reader 
will  imagine,  in  the  dusk  of  evening,  a  grand  hurly-burly  made 
up  of  smoke,  dust,  blood,  yells,  clashing  swords,  banging  car- 
5* 


112  MOHUX. 

bines,  thundering  cannon,  and  wild  cheers,  he  will  have  a  feint 
idea  of  that  "little  affair"  at  Brandy. 

A  queer  circumstance  made  this  fight  irresistibly  comic. 

Fitz  Lee  had  repulsed  Buford  on  the  Rapidan  ;  followed  him 
on  his  retreat,  harassing  him  at  every  step — when,  just  as  Bu- 
ford reached  Brandy,  with  Fitz  Lee  at  his  heels,  Kilpatrick  de- 
scended on  Fitz  Lee's  rear  by  the  Sperryville  road,  and  Stuart 
thundered  down  on  7iis/ 

Thus  Fitz  Lee  was  pursuing  Buford  ;  Kilpatrick,  Fitz  Lee  ;  and 
Stuart,  Kilpatrick !  It  was  a  grand  and  comic  jumble — except 
that  it  came  very  near  being  any  thing  but  comic  to  that  joyous 
cavalier,  "  General  Fitz,"  as  we  called  liim — caught  as  he  was 
between  Generals  Buford  and  Kilpatrick ! 

General  Fitz  was  the  man  for  a  ''tight  place,"  however — and 
'•  liis  people,"  as  he  called  his  cavalry,  soon  cut  through  to  Stuart. 

It  was  a  tough  and  heavy  fight. 

"  Old  Jeb  cut  ofiT  more  than  he  could  cTiaw,  that  time!"  said  a 
veteran  afterward,  in  describing  the  fight.  And  at  one  time  it 
seemed  that  the  enemy  were  going  to  hold  their  ground. 

Fleetwood,  beyond,  was  lined  with  bayonets,  and  every  knoll 
was  crowned  with  cannon:  when  night  fell,  however,  the  whole 
force  had  retreated  and  crossed  the  Rappahannock,  leaving  the 
ground  strewed  with  their  dead  and  wounded. 

In  the  dusky  woods  near  Brandy,  Stuart  sat  his  horse,  looking 
toward  the  Rappahannock,  and  laughing  still.  He  was  talking  with 
brave  Fitz  Lee,  whose  stout  figure,  flowing  beard,  and  eyes  twin- 
kling with  humor,  were  plain  in  the  starlight.  I  shall  show  you 
that  gallant  figure  more  than  once  in  this  volume,  reader.  You 
had  but  to  look  at  him  to  see  that  he  was  the  bravest  of  soldiers, 
and  the  best  of  comrades. 

So  night  fell  on  a  victory.  Stuart  had  driven  the  enOmy  at 
every  step.  He  liad  charged  their  infantry,  cavalry,  and  artillery, 
routing  all, — and  he  was  once  more  in  sight  of  Fleetwood  Hill, 
where  he  had  defeated  them  in  the  preceding  June. 

Singular  current  of  war!  It  used  to  bear  us  onward;  but  be 
taken  with  a  sudden  fancy  to  flow  back  to  the  old  spots!  See 
Manassas,  Fredericksburg,  Cold  Harbor,  Chancellorsville! 

Fleetwood  takes  its  place  with  them — twice  bloody  and  memo- 


THE     RUSE.  1J3 

rable.    In  sight  of  it  took  place  two  of  Stuart's  liarJest  combats — 
and  both  were  victories. 


VI. 

THE   EUSE. 


By  sunrise  Stuart  was  pushing  rapidlj  up  the  bank  of  the  Rap- 
pahannock toward  "W^arrenton  Sj)rings. 

Meade  had  retreated  from  Culpeper,  and  was  falling  back 
rapidlj.  Lee  was  pressing  on  to  cut  him  off  in  the  vicinity  of 
Auburn. 

A  hot  fight  took  place  at  Jeffersonton,  a  little  village  beyond 
Hazel  River ;  and  here  the  enemy  fought  from  house  to  house,  but 
finally  retreated. 

Stuart  followed,  and  came  up  with  their  rear  retreating  over 
the  bridge  at  "Warrenton  Springs. 

On  the  northern  bank  the  Federal  sharp-shooters  were  posted 
in  double  line. 

Stuart  turned,  and  saw,  not  far  from  him,  the  Jefferson  Com- 
pany who  had  charged  so  gallantly  at  Stonehouse  Mountain.  A 
movement  of  his  hand,  and  they  were  charging  over  the  bridge. 

Suddenly  they  recoiled.  The  head  files  had  stopped, — -the 
horses  rearing.  The  flooring  in  the  centre  of  the  bridge  had 
been  torn  up — it  was  impossible  to  cross. 

The  men  wheeled  and  came  back  under  a  hot  fire  of  sharp- 
shooters.    Stuart's  face  was  fiery. 

"To  the  ford!"  he  shouted. 

And  placing  himself  in  front  of  the  men,  sword  in  hand,  he  led 
them  through  the  ford,  in  face  of  a  heavy  fire,  charged  up  the 
opposite  slope,  and  the  Federal  skirmishers  scattered  in  wild 
flight. 

The  Twelfth  Virginia  Cavalry  followed  them,  and  they  were 
cut  dow^n  or  captured. 


114:  MOHDN. 

As  the  column  moved  on,  Stuart  galloped  along  the  line  toward 
the  front. 

He  had  just  faced  death  with  these  men,  and  at  sight  of  him 
they  raised  a  cheer. 

"Hurrah  for  old  Jebl"  rose  in  a  shout  from  the  column. 

Stuart  turned  :  his  face  glowed :  rising  in  his  stirrups,  he  took 
off  his  hat  and  exclaimed:  — 

"  Bully  for  the  old  Twelfth  !" 

The  words  were  unclassic,  it  may  be,  reader,  but  they  raised  a 
storm. 

"  I  felt  like  I  could  die  for  old  Jeb  after  that,"  one  of  the  men 
said  to  me. 

Stuart  disappeared,  followed  by  tumultuous  clieers^and  his  col- 
umn continued  to  advance  upon  Warrenton  ahead  of  the  army. 

He  had  ridden  on  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  when  he  turned  to 
nie,  and  said  : — 

"  I  am  getting  uneasy  about  things  at  Culpeper.  I  wish  you 
would  ride  back  to  Rosser,  who  is  there  with  two  hundred  men, 
and  tell  him  to  call  on  Young,  if  he  is  pushed." 

I  turned  my  horse. 

"You  know  where  Young  is?" 

"  On  the  Sperryville  road." 

"  Exactly — Rosser  can  count  on  him.  I  am  going  on  toward 
Warrenton." 

And  the  general  and  myself  parted,  riding  in  opposite  direc- 
tions. 

I  returned  toward  Hazel  River;  passed  that  stream,  and  the 
long  rows  of  army  wagons ;  and  as  the  sun  was  sinking,  drew 
near  Culpeper. 

As  I  pressed  on,  I  heard  the  long  thunder  of  cannon  coming  up 
from  the  direction  of  Brandy. 

What  could  that  sound  mean  ?  Had  the  enemy  again  advanced 
and  assailed  the  small  force  of  cavalry  there"? 

Going  on  now  at  full  speed,  I  heard   the  cannon   steadily  ap 
proaching  Culpeper  Court-House.     All  at  once,  as  I  drew    near 
the  village,  I  heard  a  tremendous  clatter  in  the  streets  ;  a  column 
of  cavalry  was  advancing  to  the  front — soon  tlie  crack  of  carbine:? 
was  heard  bevond  the  town. 


THE    RUSE.  115 

A  short  ride  brought  me  to  the  field,  and  all  was  explained. 
Colonel  Rosser  had  been  attacked  by  a  whole  corps  of  Federal 
infantry,  and  two  divisions  of  cavalry — while  his  own  force  was 
about  two  hundred  men,  and  a  single  gun. 

He  had  offered  an  obstinate  resistance,  however,  fallen  back 
slowly,  and  when  about  to  be  driven  into  the  town,  Young  had 
come  to  his  aid. 

Then  followed  one  of  the  gayest  comedies  of  the  war.  Young 
was  the  author  of  it.  You  laugh  sometimes  still,  do  you  not, 
old  comrade,  at  the  trick  you  played  our  friends  on  that  October 
evening  ? 

Young  threw  himself  into  the  fight  with  the  true  cavalry  elan. 
Dismounting  his  whole  brigade,  he  opened  a  rapid  fire  on  the 
advancing  enemy;  and  this  obstinate  resistance  evidently  pro- 
duced a  marked  effect  upon  their  imaginations.  They  had  been 
advancing — they  now  paused.  They  had  been  full  of  audacity, 
and  now  seemed  fearful  of  some  trap.  It  was  evident  that  they 
suspected  the  presence  of  a  heavy  force  of  infantry — and  night 
having  descended,  they  halted. 

This  was  the  signal  for  the  fifth  act  of  the  comedy.  Young 
kindled  camp-fires  along  two  miles  of  front ;  brought  up  his  brass 
band  and  played  "  The  Bonnie  Blue  Flag,"  and  '^  Dixie."  It  was 
obvious  to  the  enemy  that  at  least  a  corps  of  Lee's  infantry  was 
there  in  their  front,  ready  to  renew  the  action  at  dawn ! 

The  finale  was  comic — I  shared  the  blankets  of  the  gallant 
Georgian  that  night — when  we  rose  the  enemy's  whole  force  had 
disappeared. 

Such  had  been  the  result  of  the  ruse,  and  I  always  regarded 
the  affair  as  one  of  the  gayest  incidents  of  the  war. 

"When  I  left  the  brave  Young,  he  was  laughing  in  triumph. 

If  your  eye  meets  this  page,  old  comrade,  it  may  give  you  an- 
other laugh — and  laughter  is  something  in  this  dull  epocli,  is  it 
not? 

But  whether  you  laugh  or  sigh,  and  wherever  you  may  be, 
health  and  happiness  attend  you! 

In  the  afternoon,  I  was  at  Warrenton. 


116  MOHUN. 


VII. 

STUART    CAUGHT   IX    THE   TRAP. 

I  FOUND  the  general  moving  toward  Auburn,  on  a  reconnois- 

pance. 

Meade  had  been  delayed  ranch  by  uncertainty  as  to  his  adver- 
sary's designs— had  scarcely  advanced  beyond  the  Rappahan- 
nock — and  the  object  of  Stuart  was  to  discover  his  position  and 
intentions. 

That  was  the  work  always  assigned  to  the  "Eyes  and  Ears" 
of  the  army — Stuart's  cavalry  ;  and  the  stout  cavalier,  now  at  the 
head  of  his  column,  was  on  for  the  railroad,  along  which  the  ene- 
my must  retreat. 

Another  comedy  was  to  follow — which  came  near  being  a 
tragedy. 

Stuart  steadily  advanced,  and  about  sunset  had  passed  Auburn, 
when,  as  he  was  riding  at  the  head  of  his  column,  a  messenger 
rode  up  hastily  from  Gordon,  holding  the  rear. 

"Weill"  said  Stuart. 

"  The  enemy  are  in  your  rear,  general !" 

"Impossible!" 

"  General  Gordon  sent  me  to  say  so." 

Stuart  turned  and  galloped  back.     Gordon  came  to  meet  him. 

"The  Yankee  array  are  in  our  rear,  general,"  said  Gordon. 
"  Come,  and  I  will  show  you." 

And  riding  to  an  eminence  he  pointed  out  across  the  fields,  in 
the  gathering  gloom,  long  lines  of  infantry  and  artillery  moving 
toward  Manassas. 

Stuart  gazed  at  them  keenly.  As  he  sat  looking  toward  them, 
j9i  staff  officer  from  the  front  came  up  rapidly. 

"Well,  captain!" 

"  The  enemy  are  in  front,  general." 

"Infantry?" 

"  Yes.  with  artillery." 

Stuart  looked  at  Gordon. 


STUART    CAUGHT    IX    THE    TRAP.       117 

"  A  real  trap,"  he  said  coollj,  knitting  his  brows. 

"Have  thev  seen  von,  Gordon?"  he  asked. 

"I  think  not,  general." 

"  TTell,  so  far  all  is  well.  Tliere  is  nothing  to  do  but  to  lay  low, 
and  take  the  chances  of  getting  out." 

Stuart's  voice  was  never  cooler.  He  looked  quietly  at  the  huge 
column  cutting  off  liis  retreat. 

"A  splendid  chance  to  attack  them!"  he  all  at  once  exclaimed. 

And  tearing  a  leaf  out  of  his  dispatch-book,  he  wrote  a  hasty 
note  to  General  Lee.  I  afterward  knew  wliat  it  contained. 
Stnart  described  liis  situation,  and  proposed  that  Rodes,  then  near 
Warrenton,  should  attack  at  dawn — when  lie  would  open  with  his 
artillerv.  charge  with  his  horsemen,  and  cut  his  wav  out. 

"A'good  man  in  blue  uniform  now,  Gordon." 

Gordon  sent  off  an  aid,  and  the  man  soon  appeared.  From 
top  to  toe  he  was  of  irreproachable  blue  ;  and  he  listened  keenly 
to  his  instructions. 

Five  minutes  afterward  he  had  dismounted,  given  his  horse  to 
a  comrade,  and  was  stealing  on  foot  through  the  thicket  toward 
the  Federal  column.  A  moment  afterward  he  had  mingled  with 
their  column  and  disappeared. 

Other  messengers,  also  in  Federal  uniform,  were  dispatched : 
the  whole  force  of  cavalrv  was  massed,   and  concealed  in  the 

V  7 

woods :  then  darkness  descended  ;  and  the  long  night  of  anxiety 
began. 

The  situation  was  not  agreeable.  Stuart  was  caught  in  a  ver- 
itable trap.  On  both  sides — in  his  rear  and  his  front — were  pass- 
ing heavy  corps  of  Federal  infantry;  their  numerous  artillery; 
and  their  long-drawn  columns  of  cavalrv.  Discoverv  was  destruc- 
tion ;  the  only  hope  was  that  the  enemy  would  not  suspect  our 
proximity.  If  we  were  once  known  to  be  lurking  there,  good-bye 
to  Stuart  and  his  men ! 

So  the  long  night  commenced.  The  hours  passed  on,  and  still 
we  were  not  discovered.  It  seemed  miraculous  that  some  noise 
did  not  betray  Stuart's  hiding-place ;  but  an  Unseen  Eye  seemed 
to  watch  over  him,  and  an  Unseen  Hand  to  guard  him. 

More  than  once  the  neisrh  of  a  horse  rang  out  on  tiie  air  of 
night ;  and  two  or  three  times  the  discordant  bray  of  a  mule  at- 


US  ,        MOHUN". 

taclicd  to  the  artillery  startled  the  silence  of  the  woods.  But  these 
sounds  were  unheeded.  They  evidently  attracted  no  attention 
from  the  eneinv. 

Leaning  down  in  their  saddles,  the  men,  half  overcome  by  sleep, 
but  afraid  of  a  rough  waking,  passed  sleepless  hours,  looking  fur 
the  dawn. 

Stuart  was  never  cooler.  On  his  horse,  at  the  head  of  his  men, 
he  betrayed  no  emotion.  You  would  not  have  known,  except  for 
Ills  subdued  tones  when  speaking  to  some  one,  that  he. and  his 
command  were  in  a  veritable  "tiglit  place."  Cool  and  resolnte, 
he  was  equal  to  any  event.  Certain  capture  or  destruction  of  his 
whole  force  was  imminent. 

Thus  the  night  glided  "away.  AVe  had  not  been  discovered. 
Over  the  trees  was  seen  the  yellow  streak  of  dawn. 

I  looked  round.  The  men's  faces  were  haggard  from  want  of 
sleep.     But  they  evidently  felt  perfect  confidence  in  Stuart. 

He  hastened  to  justify  it. 

ISo  sooner  had  light  come  than  he  placed  his  artillery  in  posi- 
tion. As  it  grew  and  broadened,  the  enemy  were  seen  just  on  a 
hill  in  front  of  us,  busily  cooking  their  breakfasts. 

Suddenly  a  single  cannon  sent  its  long  thunder,  dull  and  rever- 
berating, through  the  woods,  from  the  direction  of  Warrenton.    . 

Stuart  rose  erect  in  his  saddle,  and  looked  in  the  direction  of 
the  sound,  his  eyes  glowing. 

Another  followed ;  then  another  ;  then  a  long,  continuous  bel- 
low of  artillery,  making  the  hills  echo. 

There  was  no  longer  any  doubt  about  the  fate  of  the  messen- 
gers. Lee  had  received  the  dispatches;  Rodes  had  opened  on 
the  Federal  columns,  attacking  as  that  good  soldier  knew  how"  to 
attack. 

Stuart  darted  to  his  guns.  On  his  countenance  was  a  grim 
smile. 

'•'  Attention  I"  he  exclaimed. 

The  cannoneers  ran  to  their  posts,  a  cheer  rose,  the  next  in- 
stant the  guns  spouted  flame  ;  shell  after  shell  in  rapid  succession 
screamed  through  the  woods — and  bursting  in  the  midst  of  tiie 
blue  groups,  threw  them  into  the  wildest  disorder. 

Stuart  did  not  allow  the  panic  to  subside.     His  sharp-shooters 


MEADE^S    "EYE-TEETH."  1J9 

opened  at  the  same  instant  a  determined  fire  ;  the  great  cavalier 
went  at  full  speed  to  the  head  of  his  column  :— then  rushing  like 
an  avalanche,  troopers  and  artillery,  charged  the  column  in  front, 
hurst  through,  trampling  it  as  he  went,  and  at  a  gallop  the  gray 
horsemen,  with  guns  following,  broke  out ;  and  were  again 
free. 

Stuart  was  ont  of  the  trap.  From  one  of  the  "  tightest  places  " 
that  a  commander  was  ever  in  he  had  extricated  his  whole  com- 
mand. 

Once  in  safety,  he  turned  like  a  wild  boar  on  his  enemies.  In 
ten  minutes  his  artillery  had  taken  a  new  position— its  thunders 
had  opened — its  roar  told  the  army,  that  his  feather  still  floated, 
his  star  was  still  in  the  ascendant. 

Such  was  that  queer  affair  of  Auburn.  Few  more  curious  in- 
cidents occurred  in  the  war. 

A  brave  oflicer  of  the  infantry  had  accompanied  us  as  an 
amateur. 

''  I've  got  enough  of  the  cavalry,"  he  said,  laughing ;  "  I  am 
going  back  to  the  infantry.     It  is  safer !" 


VIII. 

GENERAL  [MEADE'S    "EYE-TEETH." 

Stuart  came  back  langhing  from  his  adventure. 

The  army  hailed  his  reappearance  with  joy  and  cheers. 

They  had  already  split  the  air  with  shouts  in  honor  of  the 
cavalry,  on  that  evening  at  "Warrenton  Springs,  when  Stuart 
charged  through  the  ford. 

"Hurrah  for  Stuart!"  was  now  the  exclamation  everywhere. 
And  let  me  add  that  the  stout  cavalier  keenly  enjoyed  his  popu- 
larity. He  was  brave  and  fond  of  glory— approbation  delighted 
him.     In  his  ears,  praise,  sympathy,  admiration,  sounded  sweet. 

General  Lee  continued  to  press  forward,  but  the  golden  mo- 
ment for  intercepting  Meade  had  fled. 


120  MO  HUN. 

lie  had  not  been  cut  off  in  Ciilpeper ;  lie  had  not  been  cut  off 
at  Warrenton ;  he  was  not  going  to  be  cut  off  at  Bristoe,  near 
Manassas. 

Hill  had  been  sent  in  that  direction  to  intercept  the  enemy's 
retreat,  but  on  the  afternoon  succeeding  the  adventure  of  Stuart, 
an  ugly  blow  was  dealt  him  on  the  banks  of  Deep  Pain. 

He  came  u})  with  the  enemy's  rear  guard  under  their  l^ave 
General  Warren  ;  assailed  it  in  front  of  an  embankment  furiously, 
and  suffered  a  heavy  repulse. 

General  Cooke  was  shot  down  at  the  head  of  his  men  ;  the 
brigade  was  nearly  cut  to  pieces ;  and  Warren  retreated  across 
Deep  Run,  in  grim  triumph,  carrying  off  several  pieces  of  Hill's 
artillery. 

It  was  a  grievous  blow,  and  aft'ected  the  brave  Hill  deeply. 
General  Lee  was  no  less  melancholy  ;  it  is  said  that  he  was  both 
gloomy  and  restive.  It  was  reported,  I  know  not  upon  what 
authority,  that  when  lie  and  General  Hill  were  riding  over  the 
field,  and  Hill  essayed  to  explain  the  unfortunate  affair,  the  com- 
mander-in-chief shook  his  head,  and  said  in  grave  tones  : — 

"Say  no  more,  general — have  these  poor  dead  soldiers  buried." 

From  the  hill  above  Bristoe,  General  Lee,  accompanied  by 
Stuart,  looked  out  in  the  direction  of  Manassas.  Not  a  blue  coat 
was  to  be  seen.  Meade  had  made  good  his  retreat.  Every- 
where he  had  eluded  the  blows  of  his  great  adversary — and  in 
parting  from  him,  finally,  at  Bristoe,  had  left  blood  in  his  foot- 
steps— the  blood  of  some  of  Lee's  best  soldiers. 

It  is  said  that  General  Meade  made  this  retreat  under  protest 
— and  that  he  was  everywhere  looking  for  a  position  to  fight. 
A  Northern  correspondent  described  how,  sitting  with  him  by 
the  camp-fire,  General  Meade  had  said  : — 

"  It  was  like  pulling  out  my-eye  teeth  not  to  have  had  a  fight  V 

Did  he  say  that?    Then  he  was  out-generalled. 

But  he  had  succeeded  in  retreating  safelv.  He  was  behind  the 
works  of  Centreville  :  Lee  had  stopped  the  pursuit. 

There  was  nothing  more,  indeed,  to  be  done.  Lee  must  retire, 
or  attack  the  enemy  behind  their  earth-works.  That  was  not 
very  promising,  and  he  fell  back  toward  his  old  camps,  on  the 
Eapidaii.. 


WHAT   THE   AUTHOR   HAS   OMITTED.    121 

Kotliing  prevented  the  cavalry,  however,  from  "  feeling  "  the 
enemy  in  their  new  position  ;  and  Stuart  rapidly  advanced  to  Bull 
Run,  across  whichTitz  Lee  drove  the  Federal  horsemen. 

A  raid  toward  their  rear,  by  Stuart,  followed.  He  moved  to- 
ward Groveton ;  deflected  to  the  left,  and  crossed  the  Catharpin 
in  a  violent  storm  ;  advanced  next  day  toward  Frying-Pan ;  then 
striking  the  Second  Corps  of  Meade,  and  throwing  it  into  confu- 
sion, by  producing  the  impression  that  his  force  was  Lee's  whole 
army,  he  quietly  retired  by  the  way  he  had  come. 

His  disappearance  revealed  all.  The  enemy  perceived  that  the 
attack  was  only  a  "  cavalry  raid,"  and  were  seized  with  immense 
indignation.  A  picked  division  was  sent  out  in  pursuit  of  the 
daring  raiders — and  this  force  of  horsemen,  about  three  thousand 
in  number,  hurried  across  Bull  Run  to  punish  Stuart. 

They  were  commanded  by  the  ardent  General  Kilpatrick  :— 
what  followed  is  known  as  the  "  Buckland  Races." 


IX. 

WHAT  THE  AUTHOR   HAS   OMITTED. 

Such  is  a  rapid  summary  of  the  cavalry  operations  succeeding 
the  action  of  Bristoe. 

Those  readers  who  cry  ont  for  "  movement  I  movement!"  are 
respectfully  requested  to  observe  that  I  have  passed  over  much 
ground,  and  many  events  in  a  few  paragraphs  :— and  yet  I  might 
have  dwelt  on  more  than  one  scene  which,  possibly,  might  have 
interested  the  worthy  reader. 

There  was  the  gallant  figure  of  General  Fitz  Lee,  at  the  head 
of  his  horsemen,  advancing  to  charge  what  he  supposed  to  be  the 
enemy's  artillery  near  Bristoe,  and  singing  as  he  went,  in  the 
gayest  voice  : — 

"Eest  in  peace!  rest  in  peace! 
Sluinb'ring  lady  love  of  mine ; 
Eest  in  peace !  rest  in  peace  ! 
Sleep  on !" 


122  MOHUN. 

There  was  the  charge  over  the  barricade  near  Yates's  Ford, 
where  a  strange  figure  mingled  just  at  dusk  with  the  staff,  and 
when  arrested  as  he  was  edging  away  in  the  dark,  coolly  an- 
nounced that  he  belonged  to  tiie  "First  Maine  Cavalry." 

There  was  the  march  toward  Chantilly,  amid  the  drenching 
storm,  when  Stuart  rode  along  laughing  and  shouting  his  camp 
songs,  with  the  rain  descending  in  torrents  from  his  heavy  brown 
beard. 

There  was  the  splendid  advance  on  the  day  succeeding, 
through  the  rich  autumn  forest,  of  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow. 

Then  the  fight  at  Frying-Pan ;  arousing  the  hornets'  nest 
tliere,  and  the  feat  performed  by  Colonel  Surry,  in  carrying  oflf 
through  the  fire  of  the  sharp-shooters,  on  the  pommel  of  his  sad- 
dle, a  beautiful  girl  who  declared  that  she  was  "not  at  all 
afraid!" 

These  and  many  other  scenes  come  back  to  memory  as  I  sit 
here  at  Eagle's  Nest.  But  were  I  to  describe  all  I  witnessed 
during  the  war,  I  should  never  cease  writing.  All  these  must 
be  passed  over — my  canvas  is  limited,  and  I  have  so  many 
figures  to  draw,  so  many  pictures  to  paint,  that  every  square 
inch  is  valuable. 

That  is  the  vice  of  "  memoirs,"  reader.  The  memory  is  an 
immense  receptacle — it  holds  every  thing,  and  often  trifles  take 
the  prominent  place,  instead  of  great  events.  You  are  interested 
in  those  trifles,  when  they  are  part  of  your  own  experience  ;  but 
perhaps,  they  bore  your  listener  and  make  him  yawn — a  terrible 
catastrophe ! 

So  I  pass  to  some  real  and  hona  fide  "  events."  Sabres  are 
going  to  clash  now,  and  some  figures  whom  the  reader  I  hope 
has  not  forgotten  are  going  to  ride  for  the  prize  in  the  famous 
Buckland  Races ! 


X. 

I   FALL  A  VICTIM   TO   TOM'S   ILL-LUCK. 

Stuart  had  fallen  back,  and  had  reached  the  vicinity  of  Buck- 
land. 


VICTIM    TO    TOM'S    ILL-LUCK.  123 

There  was  a  bright  light  in  his  bhie  eyes,  a  meaning  smile  on 
his  Tnustached  lip,  which  in  due  time  I  was  going  to  under- 
stand. 

Kilpatrick  was  following  him.  From  the  rear  guard  came  the 
crack  of  skirmishers.  It  seemed  hard  to  understand,  but  the 
fact  was  perfectly  evident,  that  Stuart  was  retreating. 

I  had  fallen  out  of  the  column,  and  was  riding  with  Tom  Her- 
bert. Have  you  forgotten  that  worthy,  my  dear  reader?  Has 
the  roar  of  Gettysburg  driven  him  quite  from  your  memory  ?  I 
hope  not.  I  have  not  mentioned  him  for  a  long  time,  so  many 
things  have  diverted  me — but  we  had  ridden  together,  slept 
together,  fought  together,  and  starved  together !  Tom  had  come 
to  be  one  of  my  best  friends,  in  fact,  and  his  charming  good 
humor  beguiled  many  a  weary  march.  To  hear  him  laugh  was 
real  enjoyment;  and  when  he  would  suddenly  burst  forth  with, 

"  Oh  look  at  the  riggings 
On  Billy  Barlo — o — o — ow  !" 

the  sternest  faces  relaxed,  the  sourest  personages  could  not  but 
laugh. 

Brave  and  honest  fop  !  Where  are  you  to-day,  mon  gargon  !  I 
wish  I  could  see  you  and  hear  you  sing  again  ! 

But  I  am  prosing.  Riding  beside  Tom,  I  was  looking  down 
and  thinking  of  a  certain  young  lady,  when  an  exclamation  from 
my  companion  made  me  raise  my  head. 

"  By  George!  there's  the  house,  old  fellow  !" 

"The  house?" 

"  Of  the  famous  supper." 

"So  it  is!" 

"And  my  inamorata,  Surry!     I  wonder  if  she  is  still  there?" 

"  Inamorata  ?     What  is  her  other  name  ?" 

Tom  laughed,  and  began  to  sing  in  his  gayest  voice, 

"  Oh,  Katy !  Katy  ! 

Don't  marry  any  other; 
You'll  break  my  heart,  and  kill  me  dead, 
And  then  be  hanged  for  murder  I" 

"  That  is  answer  enough,"  I  said,  laughing. 
"  Suppose  we  go  and  see  if  they  are  still  alive,"  Tom  said,  blush- 
ing ;   "  ten  minutes  will  take  us  to  the  house." 


124  MOHUN. 

In  fact,  I  saw  across  the  fields,  embowered  in  foliage,  the  hos- 
pitable mansion  in  which  we  had  eaten  the  famous  suppei*  on 
the  route  to  Pennsylvania. 

"  It  is  risky,-'  I  said,  hesitating. 

"  But  pleasing,"  retorted  Tom,  with  a  laugh. 

And  I  saw,  from  his  flushed  face,  that  he  had  set  his  heart  on 
the  visit. 

Tliat  conquered  me.  I  never  could  refuse  Tom  Herbert  any 
thing;  and  we  were  soon  cantering  toward  the  house. 

Leaving  our  horses  in  a  little  grove,  near  the  mansion,  in  order 
that  they  might  not  attract  the  attention  of  any  of  the  enemy's 
vedettes,  we  hastened  up  the  steps. 

As  we  reached  the  door,  it  opened,  and  Miss  Katy  Dare,  the 
heroine  of  Tom's  dreams,  very  nearly  precipitated  herself  into 
our  arms. 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you  I*'  she  exclaimed,  with  her  au- 
burn ringlets  dancing,  her  eyes  sparkling, — and  taking  care  to  look 
at  me  as  she  uttered  the  words. 

Then  a  Avhole  bevy  of  young  ladies  hastened  out  to  welcome 
ns. 

"Wliere  had  we  been  ?  Why  were  we  going  hack  ?  Could  Gen- 
eral Stuart  intend  to  leave  them  in  the  Yankee  lines  again  ?  Oh, 
no  !  he  could  not  !  He  could  not  have  the  heart  to  !  Was  he 
coming   to   see   them  ?      Oh,  the    sight   of   gray  uniforms  was 

HEATEXLY ! I ! 

And  the  young  damsels  positively  overwnelmed  me  with  ex- 
clamations and  interrogatories.  Eyes  danced,  lips  smiled,  cheeks 
glowed — they  hung  aronnd  me,  and  seemed  wild  with  enthusiasm 
and  delight. 

Around  me^  I  say — for  Tom  and  Miss  Katy  had  accidentally 
strolled  into  a  conservatory  near  at  hand.  A  glass  door  gave 
access  to  it,  and  they  had  "gone  to  examine  the  flowers,"  the- 
young  ladies  said,  with  rapturous  smiles  and  little  nods. 

Meanwhile,  "the  wants  of  the  soldiers"  were  bv  no  means 
forgotten.  Busy  hands  brought  in  china,  silver,  and  snowy  nap- 
kins. On  the  table  the  waiter  was  soon  deposited,  containing  a 
splendid,  miraculous  array  of  edibles,  and  these  were  flanked  by 
decanters  containing  excellent  home-made  wine. 


SINGULAR    CONVERSATION".  125 

This  consumed  half  an  hour — but  at  last  the  repast  was  ready, 
and  one  of  the  young  ladies  hastened  toward  the  conservatory, 
uttering  a  discreet  little  ''  ahem  !"  which  mada  her  companions 
laugh. 

In  an  instant  Tom  made  his  appearance  with  a  decided  color 
in  his  cheeks  ;  and  Miss  Katy — well,  Miss  Katy's  face  was  the 
color  of  a  peony,  or  a  carnation. 

Shall  I  reveal  to  you,  gentle  reader,  what  Tom  told  me  long 
afterward?  He  had  advanced  and  been  repulsed — had  attack- 
ed and  been  "scattered."  Pardon  the  slang  of  tlie  army,  and 
admire  the  expeditious  operations  of  the  gentlemen  of  the 
cavalrv ! 

Tom  was  blushing,  but  laughing  too.  He  was  game,  if  he  was 
unfortunate.  He  did  not  even  decline  the  material  enjoyment  of 
lunch,  and  having  led  in  the  young  Miss  Katy,  with  a  charmingly 
foppish  air,  took  his  seat  at  the  table,  which  promised  so  much 
pleasure  of  another  description. 

The  fates  frowned  on  us.  Tom  was  unlucky  that  day,  and  I 
was  drawn  into  the  vortex  of  bad  fortune. 

Suddenly  a  clatter  of  hoofs  came  from  the  grass  plat  in  front 
of  the  house  ;  the  rattle  of  sabres  from  a  company  of  cavalry  fol- 
lowed ;  and  the  young  ladies  had  just  time  to  thrust  us  into  tlie 
conservatory,  when  the  door  opened,  and  an  officer  in  blue  uni- 
form, accompanied  by  a  lady,  entered  the  apartment. 


XL 

I   OVERHEAR    A   SINGULAR    CONVERSATION. 

I  KEC0G^^ZED  the  new-comers  at  a  glance.  They  were  Darke, 
and  the  gray  woman. 

There  was  no  mistaking  that  powerful  figure,  of  low  stature, 
but  herculean  proportions ;  that  gloomy  and  phlegmatic  face, 
half-covei-ed  with  the  black  beard  ;  and  the  eye  glancing  warily, 
but  with  a  reckless  fire  in  them,  from  beneath  the  heavy  eye- 
brows. 


126  MOHUN. 

The  woman  wore  an  elegant  grav  riding  habit — gray  seemed  a 
favorite  with  lier.  Her  cheeks  were  as  white  as  ever,  and  her  lips 
as  red.  Her  bearing  was  perfectly  composed,  and  she  advanced, 
with  the  long  riding  skirt  thrown  over  her  arm,  walking  with 
exquisite  grace. 

All  this  I  could  easily  gee.  The  glass  door  of  the  conservatory 
had  been  left  ajar  in  the  hurry  of  our  retreat,  and  from  behind 
the  lemon-trees  and  flower-bushes,  we  could  see  into  the  apart- 
ment without  difficulty. 

There  was  evidently  little  danger  of  our  discovery.  The  new- 
comers had  plainly  entered  the  house  with  no  design  to  search  it. 
Darke  advanced  into  the  apartment;  made  the  ladies  a  bow, 
which  more  than  ever  convinced  me  that  he  had  been  familiar 
with  good  society ;  and  requested  food  for  the  lady.  She  had 
tasted  none  for  many  hours,  and  was  faint.  He  would  not  ask  it 
for  himself,  inasmuch  as  he  was  an  enemy. 

He  bowed  again  as  he  spoke,  and  was  silent. 

The  young  ladies  had  listened  coldly.  As  he  finished,  they 
pointed  to  the  waiter,  and  without  speaking,  they  left  the  apart- 
ment. 

Darke  was  left  alone  with  the  woman  in  gray.  She  seemed  to 
have  regarded  ceremony  as  unnecessary.  Going  to  the  table,  she 
had  already  helped  herself,  and  for  some  moments  devoured, 
rather  than  ate,  the  food  before  her. 

TJien  she  rose,  and  went  and  took  her  seat  in  a  rocking- 
chair  near  the  fire.  Darke  remained  erect,  gazing  at  her,  in  si- 
lence. 

The  lady  rocked  to  and  fro,  pushed  back  her  dark  hair  with 
the  snowy  hand,  and  looking  at  her  companion,  began  to  laugh. 

"  You  are  not  hungry  ?"  she  said. 

"  Xo,"  was  his  reply. 

"And  to  think  that  a  romantic  voung  creature  like  mvself 
should  be !" 

"  It  was  natural.  I  hoped  that  you  would  have  given  up  this 
fancy  of  accompanying  me.     You  can  not  stand  the  fatigue." 

"  I  can  stand  it  easily,"  she  said.  "When  we  have  a  cherished 
object,  weariness  does  not  count." 

"  A  cherished  object !    "What  is  yours  ?" 


SINGULAR    CONVERSATION.  127 

"  Sit  down,  and  I  will  tell  yon.  I  am  tired.  You  can  rejoin 
the  column  in  ten  minutes." 

"  So  be  it,"  said  Durke,  gloomily. 

And  he  sat  down  near  her. 

"  You  wish  to  be  informed  of  my  object  in  going  with  you 
everywhere,"  she  said.  And  her  voice  which  had  at  first  been 
gay  and  careless,  assumed  a  mocking  accent,  making  the  nerves 
tingle.  "  I  can  explain  in  a  very  few  words  my  romantic  desire. 
I  wish  to  see  him  fall." 

"  Humph  1"  ejaculated  Darke,  coldly  ;   "  you  mean ■" 

"  That  man — yes.  You  promised  to  kill  him,  when  you  next 
met.     Did  you  not  promise  me  that  ?" 

Darke  looked  at  the  speaker  with  grim  admiration. 

"  You  are  a  singular  woman,"  he  said ;  "  you  never  forget  a 
wrong.  And  yet  the  wrong,  people  might  say,  was  committed  by 
you — not  Tiimy 

"  Do  you  say  that  ?"  exclaimed  the  woman  with  sudden  venom 
in  her  voice. 

"I  say  nothing,  madam,"  was  the  gloomy  reply.  *'I  only  de- 
clare that  you  hate  much  more  strongly  than  I  do.  I  hate  him — 
and  hate  him  honestly.  But  I  w^ould  not  take  him  at  disadvan- 
tage. You  would  strike  hina,  wherever  you  met  him — in  the 
dark — in  the  back---I  think  you  would  dance  the  w^ar-dance 
around  him,  when  he  was  dying  !" 

And  Darke  uttered  a  short  jarring  laugh. 

"  You  are  right,"  said  the  woman,  coolly.  "  I  wish  to  see  that 
man  die — I  expected  you  to  kill  him  on  that  night  in  Pennsyl- 
vania.    You  promised  to  do  it ; — redeem  your  promise  !" 

"  I  will  try  to  do  so,  madam,"  said  Darke,  coolly. 

"  And  I  wish  to  be  present  on  the  occasion." 

Darke  laughed  as  before. 

"  That  doubtless  has  prevented  you  from  having  our  good 
friend  Mohun — well — assassinated  !" 

The  woman  was  silent  for  a  moment.     Then  she  said  : — 

"  No,  I  have  tried  that." 

"Ah!— recently?" 

"  Yes." 

*'By  what  means — who  was  your  agent?" 
G 


128  MOHUN. 

"■  Swartz." 

Darke  waited,  li.stcning. 

"  He  has  three  times  waylaid  him  behind  the  rebel  lines,  and 
fired  on  him  as  he  was  riding  at  night  through  the  woods," 
added  the  woman. 

"  Bah  !"  said  Darke  ;  "  Swartz  told  you  that  ?" 

"  He  has  done  so." 

"  Hatred  blinds  you  ;  I  do  not  believe  that  story.  But  I  design 
nothing  of  that  description  against  Colonel  Mohun.  I  will  fight 
him  wherever  I  meet  him  in  battle — kill  him,  if  I  can — but  no 
assassination." 

A  mocking  smile  came  to  the  woman's  lips. 

"You  seem  to  dislike  the  idea  of — assassination,"  she  said. 

Darke  uttered  a  sound  resembling  the  growl  of  a  wild  animal, 
and  a  moment  after,  seizing  the  decanter,  he  dashed  some  of  its 
contents  into  a  glass,  and  raised  it  to  his  lips. 

"  Cursed  stuff!"  he  suddenly  exclaimed,  setting  the  glass  down 
violently.     "I  want  drink — real  drink — to-day  !" 

The  woman  looked  at  him  curiously,  and  said  quietly : — 

"What  is  the  matter?" 

Her  companion's  brows  were  knit  until  the  shaggy  masses 
united  over  the  gloomy  eyes.     Beneath  burned  a  lurid  fire. 

"I  have  seen  him  again — General  Davenant,"  he  said,  in  a  low 
voice;   "it  is  the  second  time." 

As  he  uttered  these  words,  Darke  seemed  the  prey  of  some 
singular  emotion. 

"It  was  at  Gettysburg  first,"  he  continued.  "He  was  lead- 
ing the  charge,  on  the  third  day,  against  Cemetery  Heights.  I 
was  there  by  accident.  They  were  repulsed.  When  he  rode 
back,  he  was  carrying  a  bleeding  boy  in  his  arms  through  the 
smoke.  I  recognized  his  tall  form  and  gray  hair ;  and  heard 
his  voice  in  the  midst  of  the  cannon,  as  he  cheered  on  his 
men." 

The  speaker's  face  had  flushed.     His  breast  rose  and  fell. 

"That  was  the  first  time,"  he  said.  "The  second  was  the 
other  day  when  he  was  riding  among  the  enemy's  guns  near 
Bristoe — I  made  him  out  with  my  glasses." 

Darke  bent  down,  and  gazed  at  the  floor  in  silence.     The  fire 


SIXGULAK    CONVEPwSATION.  129 

in  tlie  dark  eyes  had  deepened.  His  lieavy  under  lip  Avas  caught 
in  the  Lirge,  sharp  teeth. 

All  at  once  a  ringing  laugh  disturhed  the  silence.  There  "was 
a  mocking  intonation  in  it  which  was  unmistakable. 

"  General  Davenant !"  exclaimed  the  woman.  ""Well,  who  is 
General  Davenant?" 

Darke  looked  at  the  mocking  speaker  sidewise. 

"Who  is  General  Davenant?"  he  said.  "Is  it  necessary 
that  I  enlighten  you,  madam?  He  is  my  bugbear — my  death's 
head !  The  sight  of  him  poisons  my  life,  and  something  gnaws 
at  me,  driving  me  nearly  mad!  To  see  that  man  chills  me,  like 
the  hand  of  death  !" 

Tlie  woman  looked  at  him  and  then  began  to  laugh. 

"You  do  unbend  your  noble  strength,  my  lord!"  she  said, 
"to  think  so  brainsickly  of  things !"  throwing  into  the  word, 
"  brain  sickly,"  exaggerated  stage-rant. 

•"One  would  say,"  she  continued,  "that  the  brave  Colonel 
Darke  had  the  blues  to-day !  Take  care  how  you  meet  Colonel 
Mohun  in  this  mood  !     The  result  might  be  unfortunate." 

Darke  made  no  reply  for  some  moments.  He  was  gazing  with 
knit  brows  upon  the  floor.     Then  he  raised  his  head. 

"You  return  to  the  subject  of  your  friend,"  he  said,  coldly. 

"  Yes.     The  subject  is  agreeable." 

"  TVell,  I  can  give  you  intelligence  of  him — unless  Swartz  has 
anticipated  me." 

"  What  intelligence  ?" 

"Your  friend  Mohun  is  in  love — again!" 

The  woman's  face  flushed  suddenly. 

"With  whom?"  she  said. 

"  Ah  !  there  is  the  curious  part  of  the  affair,  madam  I"  returned 
Darke. 

And  in  a  low  tone  he  added  : — 

"  The  name  of  the  young  lady  is — Georgia  Conway." 

The  woman  half  rose  from  her  chair,  with  flashing  eyes,  and 
said : — 

"Who  told  you  that?" 

Darke  smiled.  There  was  something  lugubrious  in  that  chilly 
mirth. 


130  M  O  H  U  N . 

"An  emissary  on  whom  I  can  rely,  brought  me  the  intelli- 
gence," he  said,  "  Colonel  Mohun  was  wounded  in  the  battle  of 
Fleetwood,  and  entering  a  house  where  she  was  nursing  the 
wounded,  fainted,  and  was  cauglit  in  her  arms.  From  that  mo- 
ment the  affair  began.  She  nursed  him,  and  he  was  soon  healed. 
I  had  myself  inflicted  the  wound  with  a  pistol  ball — but  the  hurt 
was  trifling.  He  got  well  in  a  few  days — and  was  ready  to  meet 
me  again  at  Upperville — but  in  those  few  days  the  young  lady  and 
himself  became  enamored  of  each  other.  She  is  proud,  they  say, 
and  had  alwavs  laughed  at  love — he  too  is  a  woman-hater — no 
doubt  from  some  old  aflair,  madam  I — but  both  the  young  people 
suddenly  changed  their  views.  Colonel  Mohun  became  devoted  ; 
the  young  woman  forgot  her  sarcasm.  My  emissary  saw  them 
riding  out  more  than  once  near  Culpeper  Court-Honse ;  and 
since  the  return  of  the  army,  they  have  been  billing  and  cooing 
like  two  doves,  quite  love  sick !  That's  agreeable,  is  it  not, 
madam  ?" 

And  Darke  nttered  a  singular  laugh.  As  for  the  woman  she 
had  grown  so  pale,  I  thought  she  would  faint. 

"  Do  you  understand,  madam  ?"  continued  Darke.  "  Colonel 
Mohun  is  in  love  again  ;  and  the  name  of  his  friend  is — Georgia 
Conway !" 

The  woman  was  silent ;  but  I  saw  that  she  was  gnawing  her 
nails. 

"My  budget  is  not  exhausted,  madam,"  continued  Darke. 
"The  yonng  lady  has  a  sister  ;  her  name  is  Virginia.  She  too 
has  a  love  aff'air  with  a  young  officer  of  the  artillery.  His  name 
is  William  Davenant!" 

And  the  speaker  clutched  the  arm  of  a  chair  so  violently  that 
the  wood  cracked  in  his  powerful  grasp. 

"That  is  all!"  he  added.  "  The  Mohuns,  Davenanta  and  Con- 
ways,  are  about  to  intermarry,  you  see !  Their  blood  is  going  to 
mingle,  their  hands  to  clasp,  in  spite  of  the  gulf  of  fire  that  di- 
vides their  people!  All  is  forgotten,  or  they  care  nothing.  They 
are  yonder,  billing,  and  cooing,  and  kissing  !  the  tender  hearts  are 
throbbing — all  the  world  is  bright  to  them — while  I  am  here,  and 
you,  tearing  our  hearts  out  in  despair!" 

Darke  stopped,  uttering  a  sound  between  a  curse  and  a  groan. 


SIN^GULAR    C0NVERSATI0:N'.  131 

Tlie  woman  had  listened  with  a  bitter  smile.  As  he  finished,  she 
rose  and  approached  him.  Her  eyes  burned  in  the  pale  face  like 
coals  of  fire. 

"  There  is  a  better  thing  than  despair  !"  she  said. 

"What?" 

"  Vengeance !" 

And  grasping  his  arm  almost  violently : — 

"  That  man  is  yonder  !"  she  said,  pointing  with  the  other  hand 
toward  Warrenton,  "  Go  and  meet  him,  and  kill  him,  and  end  all 
this  at  once !  Remember  the  banks  of  the  Nottaway  ! — That 
sword  thrust — that  grave  !  Remember,  he  hates  you  with  a 
deadly  hatred — has  wounded  you,  laughed  at  you, — driven  you 
back,  when  you  met  him,  like  a  hound  under  the  lash  !  Remem- 
ber me ! — your  oath  I  Break  that  oath  and  I  will  go  and  kill  him 
myself!" 

As  she  uttered  these  words  a  cannon  shot  thundered  across  the 
woods. 

"  Listen  !"  the  woman  exclaimed. 

Darke  rose  suddenly  to  his  feet. 

*'  You  are  right  I"  he  said,  gloomily.  "  You  keep  me  to  the  work. 
I  do  not  hate  him  as  you  do — but  he  is  an  enemy,  and  I  will  kill 
him.  Why  do  I  yield  to  you,  and  obey  you  thus  ?  What  makes 
me  love  you,  I  wonder  !" 

Suddenly  a  second  gun  roared  from  beyond  Buckland. 

"We  will  talk  of  that  afterward,"  said  the  woman,  witli 
flushed  cheeks ;  "  think  of  one  thing  only  now — that  Tie  is 
yonder." 

"  Good !"  said  Darke,  "  and  I  hope  that  in  an  hour  one  of  us 
will  be  dead,  I  care  not  which — come,  madam — but  you  must 
not  expose  yourself!" 

"What  ami!" 

"All  I  have  left!"  he  said. 

And  with  a  gloomy  look  he  rushed  from  the  house,  followed  by 
the  gray  woman. 


132  MO  HUN. 

XII. 

THE    BUCKLAND    RACES. 

In  a  moment  the  voice  of  Darke  was  heard,  ordering  "to 
horse !"  a  clatter  of  sabres  followed ;  and  the  company  of  cav- 
alry sat  out  at  full  gallop  toward  the  firing. 

At  their  head  I  saw  Darke's  burly  figure.  The  woman,  es- 
corted by  an  orderly,  rode  toward  the  rear. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  company  of  cavalry  had  entered  a  belt  of 
woods  and  disappeared. 

"We  had  hastened  into  the  apartment — Tom  and  myself,  and 
looked  now  toward  the  highway.  It  was  dark  with  a  long 
column  of  Federal  cavalry  which  seemed  to  be  in  great  agitation. 

The  column,  as  well  as  I  could  make  out,  numbered  at  least  a 
division.  Neither  the  head  nor  the  tail  of  the  blue  serpent  was 
visible — only  the  main  body,  with  its  drawn  sabres  glittering  like 
silver  scales  in  the  sun. 

I  hesitated  not  many  seconds.  Something  was  evidently  going 
on,  and  our  present  whereabouts  dangerous. 

With  a  hasty  salute  to  the  young  ladies  who  had  hurried  in, 
I  made  a  sign  to  Tom,  and  ran  to  my  horse. 

My  companion  did  not  join  me  for  at  least  five  minutes.  Ira- 
patience  began  to  master  me,  when  he  appeared,  laughing,  and 
flourishing  a  knot  of  red  ribbon,  which  I  had  observed  in  Miss 
Katy's  hair. 

With  a  bound  he  was  in  the  saddle — I  saw  him  turn  and  make 
a  gay  salute  toward  the  ladies  on  the  steps,  and  then  we  set 
out  at  full  speed  across  the  fields  to  rejoin  Stuart. 

He  was  evidently  engaged  with  the  enemy.  From  the  front 
came  quick  carbine  shots  and  shouts.  From  the  woods,  on  the 
left  flank  and  in  rear  of  the  enemy,  was  heard  the  rapid  thunder 
of  cannon. 

Suddenly  every  thing  flashed  upon  me.  I  remembered  Stuart's 
significant  smile  ;  the  absence  of  Fitz  Lee;  a  trap  had  evidently 
been  laid,  and  General  Kilpatrick  had  fallen  into  it. 

I  was  not  deceived.     The  gallant  Fitz  Lea  had  suggested  the 


THE    BUCKLAND    RACES.  133 

ruse.  He  was  to  move  toward  Auburn,  while  Stuart  retreated 
upon  Warrenton,  pursued  by  Kilpatrick.  Then  Fitz  Lee  was  to 
attack  the  enemy  in  flank  and  rear,  from  the  direction  of  Auburn 
— his  cannon  would  be  the  signal  for  Stuart  to  turn.  General 
Kilpatrick,  thus  assailed  in  front,  flank  and  rear,  sauve  qui  pent 
would,  probably,  be  the  order  of  the  day  with  him. 

Everything  turned  out  exactly  as  it  had  been  arranged.  Stuart 
retired  steadily  on  Warrenton.  "When  the  Federal  rear  ap- 
proached Buckland,  Fitz  Lee  came  in  on  their  left  flank,  and 
then  Stuart  turned  like  a  tiger,  and  bore  down  on  the  head  of 
their  column. 

That  gun  we  had  heard  was  the  signal  of  Fitz  Lee''s  attack. 
Those  carbine  shots  came  from  Stuart  as  his  men  charged. 

We  had  set  out  at  full  speed  to  rejoin  Stuart,  as  I  have  said ; 
but  he  saved  Tom  and  myself  the  trouble  of  riding  very  far.  He 
came  to  meet  us,  at  full  gallop,  with  drawn  sabre,  driving  the 
Federal  troopers  in  disorder  before  him. 

The  affair  that  succeeded  was  one  of  the  most  animated  of 
the  war. 

The  enemy  were  completely  dumbfoundered,  but  a  part  of 
Kilpatrick's  force  made  a  hard  fight.  Sabres  clashed,  carbines 
cracked,  Fit^  Lee's  artillery  roared — the  fields  and  woods  around 
Buckland  were  full  of  tumult  and  conflict. 

In  ten  minutes  we  had  caught  up  with  Stuart.  He  was  lead- 
ing his  column  in  person.  At  the  head  of  the  front  regiment 
rode  Mohun,  with  drawn  sabre,  and  pressing  his  magnificent 
gray  to  headlong  speed.  In  his  eye  was  the  splendid  joy  of 
combat;  his  cheeks  glowed;  his  laughing  lips  revealed  the  white 
teeth  under  the  black  mustache.  It  was  difficult  to  recognize  in 
this  gay  cavalier,  the  pale,  bitter  and  melancholy  cynic  of  the 
previous  June. 

"Look,  Surry!"  exclaimed  Mohun,  "we  are  driving  our 
friend  Kilpatrick!     Stuart  is  down  on  him  like  a  lion!" 

"You  are  driving  a  personal  friend  of  yours,  besides!"  I 
said.     "  Yonder  he  is — Colonel  Darke !" 

Mohun's  smile  disappeared  suddenly.  He  looked  at  Darke, 
whose  burly  figure  was  seen  at  the  head  of  the  charging  column  ; 
and  that  glance  was  troubled  and  doubtfal. 


134  MOHUN. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  meet  him,"  he  said,  in  a  low  tone. 

"  Whv  ?" 

"  He  would  not  strike  me  vonder,  in  Pennsylvania,  when  I  was 
in  his  power." 

"  But  he  has  sworn  to  kill  you  to-day  I "  I  exclaimed.  *'  I  have 
just  heard  him  swear  that !     Look  out,  Mohun  !  here  they  are  I" 

In  an  instant  the  two  columns  had  clashed  together,  like  thun- 
der. What  followed  was  a  fierce  and  confused  struggle — sabres 
clashing,  carbines  banging,  men  shouting,  groaning,  and  falling 
from  their  horses,  which  trampled  over  the  dead  and  wounded 
alike. 

I  was  close  beside  Mohun  as  he  closed  in  with  Darke.  The  lat- 
ter had  plainly  resolved  on  his  enemy's  destruction  ;  and  in  an  in- 
stant the  two  men  were  cutting  furiously  at  each  other  with 
their  sabres.  They  were  body  to  body — their  faces  flamed — it 
was  rather  a  wrestle  on  horseback,  than  a  sword  fight. 

Suddenly  ITohun  delivered  a  blow  which  fell  upon  his  oppo- 
nent's sword  hand,  nearly  cutting  through  the  fingers.  Darke's 
arm  instinctively  fell,  and  he  was  at  his  adversary's  mercy. 

Instead  of  plunging  his  sword  into  Darke's  breast,  however, 
as  he  might  have  done,  Mohun  let  its  point  fall,  and  said : — 

"  Take  your  life!     o^Tow  I  am  even  with  you,  sir!" 

Darke  recoiled,  and  a  furious  flash  darted  from  his  eyes. 
Then  liis  left  hand  went  to  his  hilt ;  he  drew  a  pistol ;  and  spur- 
ring close  up  to  Mohun,  placed  the  weapon  on  his  enemy's  breast, 
and  fired. 

The  bullet  passed  through  Mohun's  breast,  but  at  the  same 
instant  Darke  uttered  a  fierce  cry.  Mohun  had  driven  his  sword's 
point  through  the  Federal  officer's  throat — the  blood  spouted 
around  the  blade— a  moment  afterward  the  two  adversaries  had 
clutched,  dragged  each  other  from  their  rearing  horses,  and  were 
tearing  each  other  with  hands  and  teeth  on  the  ground,  wet  with 
their  blood. 

One  of  Mohun's  men  leaped  from  horseback  and  tore  them 
apart. 

''  A  sword!  give  me  a  sword,"  exclaimed  Mohun,  hoarsely. 

And  rising  to  his  feet,  he  clutched  at  an  imaginary  weapon, — ■ 
his  lips  foamed  with  blood, — and  reeling,  he  fell  at  full  length  on 


SCENES  IN     DECEMBER,     1863  135 

the  body  of  his  adversary,  who  was  bathed  in  blood,  and  seemed 
to  be  dying. 

What  is  here  described,  all  took  place  in  a  few  minutes.  In 
that  time  the  enemy's  column  had  been  broken,  and  hurled  back. 
Suddenly  the  wild  Southern  cheer  rang  above  the  woods. 
Stuart  and  Fitz  Lee  had  united  their  forces  ;  in  one  solid  column 
they  pressed  the  flying  enemy,  banging  and  thundering  on  their 
rear  with  carbines  and  cannon. 

Kilpatrick  was  defeated;  his  column  in  hopeless  rout. 

"Stuart  boasts  of  having  driven  me  from  Culpeper;"  he  is 
reported  to  have  said  just  before  the  fight,  "  and  now  I  am 
going  to  drive  Aim." 

But  Stuart  was  not  driven.  On  the  contrary,  he  drove  Kil- 
patrick. Some  of  the  enemy's  column  did  not  stop,  it  is  said, 
before  they  reached  the  banks  of  the  Potomac. 

Such  was  the  dramatic  termination  of  the  last  great  cavalry 
campaign  of  Stuart. 

The  affair  came  to  be  known  as  "  The  Buckland  Races,"  and 
Stuart's  old  sabreurs  still  laugh  as  they  recall  the  comedy. 


XIII. 

TWO    SCENES    IN    DECEMBER,    1863. 

The  campaign  of  October,  1863,  was  over.     Lee  was  behind 
the  Rapidan. 

In  December  General  Meade  struck  a  blow,  in  turn,  at  his  ad- 
versary. 

Shall  we  glance,  in  passing,  at  that  affair  of  Mine  Run?  I  saw 
a  spectacle  there — and  a  sad  one,  too — which  I  am  tempted  lo 
describe,  though  aware  it  has  little  to  do  with  my  narrative.  I 
have  left  Colonels  Mohun  and  Darke  in  a  bloody  embrace  yonder 
near  Buckland.  I  ought  to  relate  at  length  how  they  were  not 
dead,  and  how  they  in  due  time  recovered,  but  for  the  moment 
I  think  of  a  fine  sight,  and  a  weeping  face,  whicli  I  saw  in  the 
woods  below  Verdiersville. 
6* 


136  MOHUN. 

Let  us  ride  thither,  reader,  it  will  not  take  long. 

In  December,  then,  General  Meade  crossed  the  lower  Rapidan, 
and  advanced  to  assail  General  Lee  in  his  works  above. 

A  fiasco  followed.  Meade  marched  toward  Verdiersville  ; 
found  his  adversary  behind  earth-works,  near  that  place  ;  recon- 
noitered  them,  felt  them,  moved  backward  and  forward  before 
them — and  then,  one  morning,  before  General  Lee  was  aware  of 
the  fact,  quietly  disappeared,  returning  to  the  north  bank  of  the 
Eapidan. 

You  see  I  have  no  battles  to  describe  on  this  occasion,  reader. 
We  had  some  hard  figliting  in  the  cavalry,  but  I  shall  not  dwell 
upon  that.  It  is  some  handsome  fire-necklaces,  and  a  talk  with 
an  old  woman,  wliich  I  shall  speak  of. 

The  fire-necklaces  were  manufactured  by  General  Meade's 
troops,  just  before  their  retreat.  The  men  had  fallen  into  line 
at  the  word  ;  moved  silently  toward  the  Rapidan,  and  had  not 
taken  the  trouble,  in  leaving  the  rebel  woods,  to  extinguish  their 
bivouac  fires,  amid  the  thickets,  carpeted  with  leaves.  The  re- 
sult was  a  splendid  spectacle.  The  fires  had  gradually  burned 
outward,  devouring  the  carpet  of  dry  leaves.  Great  circles  of 
flame  were  seen  everywhere  in  the  woods,  and  these  dazzling 
fire-necklaces  grew  larger  and  larger,  twined  together,  became 
entangled,  twisted  about,  sparkled,  crackled, — of  all  the  sights  I 
ever  saw  I  think  this  was  the  most  curious ! 

From  time  to  time  the  flanjes  crawled  along  and  reached  the 
foot  of  some  tall  tree,  festooned  with  dry  vines.  Then  the  vine 
would  catch  ;  the  flame  would  dart  through  the  festoons  ;  climb 
the  trunk  ;  stream  from  the  summit, — and  above  the  blazing  rings, 
twisting  in  endless  convolutions,  would  roar  a  mighty  tongue  of 
flame,  crimson,  baleful,  and  menacing. 

It  was  a  new  "  torch  of  war,"  invented  by  General  Meade. 

Such  was  the  picturesque  spectacle  which  rose  a  moment  ago 
to  my  memory. 

Now  for  the  sad  scene  which  I  witnessed,  as  I  rode  back  with 
Stuart. 

Passing  a  small  house,  a  poor  woman  came  out,  and  with  eyes 
full  of  tears,  exclaimed,  addressing  Stuart: — 


SCENES    IN    DECEMBER,    1863.  137 

"  Oh,  child  !  stop  a  minute !  Are  they  coming  back  ?  They 
have  took  every  thing  I  had — they  are  not  coming  back !"  * 

Stuart  stopped.  He  was  riding  at  the  head  of  his  staff,  pre- 
ceded by  his  battle-flag.  Not  a  trace  of  amusement  was  seen  on 
his  features,  as  he  heard  himself  addressed  in  that  phrase,  "  Oh, 
child!" 

"Have  they  treated  you  so  badly?"  he  said,  in  his  grave,  kind 
voice. 

"  Oh,  yes  !"  exclaimed  the  poor  vroman,  weeping  bitterly,  "  they 
have  took  every  hog,  cow,  and  ear  of  corn  I  have,  and  every 
thing  from  my  daughter ;  she  is  a  widow,  and  lives  near  us. 
These  are  her  children,  my  grandchildren,  come  to  get  out  of  the 
way."  * 

And  she  pointed  to  two  or  three  little  girls,,  with  frightened 
faces,  and  eyes  wet  with  tears. 

Stuart  seemed  deeply  affected.  Under  that  stout  heart,  which 
never  shrunk,  was  a  wealth  of  sweetness  and  kindness. 

"  Well,  they  are  not  coming  back,  my  good  woman,"  he  said, 
in  a  voice  of  deep  feeling.  "You  need  not  be  afraid — they  are 
gone  now." 

The  poor  woman  clasped  her  hands. 

"  Oh  !  do  you  believe  that,  child !"  *  she  said ;  "  do  you  believe 
they'll  never  come  back?" 

"I  hope  not,  at  least,"  Stuart  replied,  in  a  low  tone. 

"She  clasped  her  hands,  and  for  the  third  time  addressing  him 
as  "child,"  sobbed: — 

"  Oh!  if  they  will  only  never  come  back!" 

That  scene  affected  me  deeply.  The  poor  woman's  tears  brought 
something  into  my  throat,  which  seemed  to  choke  me.  This 
time  the  Northern  soldiers  had  been  impartial  in  their  maraud- 
ing. They  had  not  only  destroyed  the  property,  and  carried  off 
the  slaves  of  the  wealthy  proprietors,  the  "bloated  aristocrats;" 
thev  had  taken  tlie  bread  out  of  the  mouths  of  the  widow  and  the 
fatherless — leaving  them  bare  and  starving  in  that  bleak  Decem- 
ber of  '63. 

War  conducted  in  that  manner  is  barbarous — is  it  not,  reader? 

♦  Her  words. 


138  MOnUN. 

The  cry  of  that  widow  aud  her  children  must  have  gone  up  to 
Heaven. 

Stnart  returned  to  Ijis  bivouac  in  the  pine  wood  near  Verdiers- 
ville,  where  he  had  slept  without  tents,  hj  his  camp-fire,  all  these 
freezing  nights.  Then  the  army  began  to  move  ;  soon  it  resumed 
its  former  position  ;  the  cavalry  was  sent  to  watch  the  fords  of 
the  Kapidan  ;  and  Stuart  returned  to  his  own  head-quarters  near 
Orange  Court-House,  gayly  singing,  as  he  had  left  them  to  advance 
and  meet  the  enemy. 


XIV. 

STUART'S  WINTER   QUARTERS. 

* 

Coox  Hollow! — 

What  gay  memories  are  evoked  by  that  familiar  name!  How 
we  laughed  and  sang  in  that  hollow  in  the  hills  near  Orange,  in 
the  cold  winter  of  1863! 

Stuart  called  his  head-quarters  ""Wigwam  Independence,"  but 
the  officers  of  his  staff  gave  them  the  sobriquet  of  "  Coon  Hol- 
low ;"  aud  I  adopt  in  my  memoirs  the  old  familiar  designation. 

Never  were  soldiers  more  comfortable  than  the  inhabitants  of 
Coon  Hollow ! — and  Stuart's  tent  was  the  most  comfortable  of 
all.  He  had  stretched  a  large  canvas  beneath  some  sheltering 
trees;  and  filling  up  the  opening  at  each  end  with  a  picturesque 
wicker-work  of  evergreens,  ensconced  himself  there  in  his  sylvan 
lodge,  like  some  Robin  Hood,  or  ranger  of  the  greenwood  in  old 
times.  The  woodland  haunt  and  open  air  life  seemed,  at  first,  to 
charm  the  bold  cavalier;  nothing  seemed  wanting  to  his  happi- 
ness, lost  here  in  the  forest :  but  soon  the  freezing  airs  "  demor- 
alized "  even  the  stout  cavalryman,  and  he  exchanged  his  canva*; 
for  a  regular  tent  of  the  largest  description,  with  a  plank  floor,  a 
camp-couch,  and  a  mighty  chimney,  wherein  sparkled,  ere  long,  a 
cheerful  fire  of  hickorv,  driving  awav  the  blasts  of  the  cold 
winter  nights,  which  were  sent  on  their  way  with  song. 

Such  was  Stuart's  own  domicile.   The  staff  tents  were  grouped 


STUART'S    WINTER    QUARTERS.         I39 

around,  with  their  solid  chimneys  of  rock.  The  "cavalry  head- 
quarters "  was  complete — a  warm  nest  in  the  woods.  Couriers 
came  and  went;  sabres  rattled  ;  spurs  jingled  ;  the  horses  whin- 
nied from  their  stables,  woven  of  pine  boughs,  near  by ;  and  in  and 
out  of  the  general's  tent  played  his  two  boisterous  setters,  Nip 
and  Tuck,  the  companions  of  his  idle  hours.  We  all  messed' 
together,  under  a  broad  canvas,  at  one  table :  music  resounded  ; 
songs  were  sung;  Sweeney,  soon,  alas!  to  be  dead,  was  yet  king 
of  the  woodland  revels;  Stuart  joined  in  his  songs,  to  the  musio 
of  the  banjo  ;  and  not  seldom  did  the  bright  faces  of  fair  ladies 
shine  on  us,  bringing  back  all  the  warmth  of  the  summer  days 
— the  blue  sky,  the  sunshine,  and  the  smiles ! 

Such  was  good  old  "  Coon  Hollow."  I  recall  it  with  delight. 
The  chill  airs  cut  you  to  the  bone  when  you  ventured  out  on 
horseback  from  the  sheltered  nook ;  but  in  Coon  Hollow  all  was 
warm  and  bright.  In  the  woods  on  the  crest  above,  the  winds 
sighed :  but  in  the  hollow  below,  the  banjo  rattled  ;  laughter 
resounded  ;  great  fires  roared ;  and,  as  though  in  open  defiance  of 
winter  and  its  tempests,  Stuart,  carolled  in  his  clear  and  sono- 
rous voice,  his  favorite  ditty, 

"  Tho  dew  is  on  the  blossom." 

So  we  sang  and  laughed  all  those  long  winter  evenings.  The 
winds  carried  away  the  sound  of  jests,  and  banjo  notes.  The 
long  hours  of  winter  thus  flew  by  like  birds  lost,  one  by  one,  in 
the  night  of  the  past.  Happy  days  !  happy  nights!  I  remember 
them  still.  Stuart  is  dead— more  than  one  of  my  dear  compan- 
ions have  followed  him — but  their  voices  sound  airain,  their  eves 
again  flash,  their  friendly  smiles  linger  in  memory. 

So  the  days  fled  by — and  I  wonder  if  our  friends  across  the 
Rapidan,  who  were  going  to  crush  us,  were  as  gay  as  the  folk 
about  to  be  crushed  ?  The  future  looked  stormy,  but  we  laughed 
—and  we  did  right,  did  we  not,  friend  ?  That  mirth  was  not 
unseemly — not  unworthy  of  approval.  It  is  evidence  at  least  of 
"  game,"  non  fractum  esse  fortund  et  retinere  in  reins  asperis, 
dignitatem — is  it  not?  Good  fortune,  wealth,  and  success,  are 
notliing  compared  to  that.  For  my  part,  I  would  rather  have  the 
equal   mind  in   arduous   things,   than   money  in   my   purse,    or 


140  MOIIUN. 

victory.  The  army  of  JSTorthern  Virginia  had  that  in  the  winter 
of  1863,  as  they  had  had  it  in  1861  and  '62,  and  were  going  to 
have  it  iu  the  dark  year  and  black  winter  preceding  April, 
18li5. 

But  I  linger  too  long  on  those  days  at  "  Coon  Hollow."  Tlie 
wave  of  war  had  wafted  us  to  that  quiet  nook  ;  for  a  time,  we 
laughed  and  sang ;  but  the  storm  was  coming.  Soon  it  struck 
us;    and  we  left  tlie  harbor,  driven  by  the  tempest. 

So  I  dismiss  Coon  Hollow,  lost  amid  tlie  hills  of  Orange.  The 
si»ot  is  desolate  to-day,  and  the  bleak  wood  is  silent.  But  for 
me,  Stuart  is  singing  there  now  as  then — and  will  sing  in  my 
memory  forever! 


LEE'S   "RAGGED   REGIMENTS." 

It  required  a  stout  heart  to  laugh  and  sing,  con  amore^  in  the 
last  days  of  that  winter,  and  the  first  days  of  spring,  1864. 

Those  very  figures,  "1864,"  tell  the  story,  and  explain  this. 
Do  they  not,  reader  ? 

Each  year  of  the  war  has  its  peculiar  plivsiognomy. 

1861 — that  is  mirth,  adventure,  inexperience,  bright  faces, 
wreaths  of  flowers,  "boxes"  from  home,  and  "honorable  men- 
tion "  in  reports,  if  you  only  waved  your  sword  and  shouted 
"  Hurrah!"  Then  you  heard  the  brass  bands  playing,  the  drum 
gayly  rolling,  the  bugles  sending  their  joyous  notes  across  the 
fields  and  through  the  forests  —  blooming  fields,  untouched 
forests  1 — and  that  music  made  the  pulses  dance.  Gayly-clad 
volunteers  marched  gallantly  through  the  streets  ;  the  crowds 
cheered  ;  the  new  flags,  shaped  by  fair  hands,  fluttered  ; — not 
a  bullet  had  torn  through  them,  not  a  rent  was  seen  in  the 
new  uniforms.  As  the  trains  swept  by  with  the  young  heroes  on 
board,  bevies  of  lovely  girls  cheered,  waved  handkerchiefs,  and 
threw  nosegays.  Eyes  were  sparkling,  lips  smiling,  cheeks  glow- 
iag  in  '61.  The  youtiis  had  havelocks  to  ward  oft*  tlie  sun  ; 
gaiters  to  keep  out  the  dust ;  woollen  belts  to  prevent  rheuma- 


LEE'S     "EAGGED    KEGIMENTS."         141 

tism  ;  fanciful  shirt  bosoms,  and  pretty  needle-cases  and  tobacco 
poncbes  of  silk  and  velvet,  decked  with  beads  and  gay  needle- 
work, bv  the  dearest  finsrers  in  the  world ! 

So  they  went  to  the  wars — those  stout  and  ruddy  youths. 
Every  one  anxious  to  have  his  liead  taken  off  by  a  cannon  ball, 
all  for  the  honor  and  glory  of  it.  They  marched  along  cheering, 
as  the  white  handkerchiefs  waved  ;  they  proudly  kept  step  to  the 
tap  of  the  drum,  or  moved  briskly  beside  the  cannon,  or  canter- 
ed by  on  their  glossy  and  spirited  horses. 

The  epoch  was  agitated,  but  joy  coursed  in  every  vein.  And 
when  the  first  successes  came,  those  small  affairs  were  greeted 
with  "thunders  of  applause." 

General  Spoons  marched  to  Bethel ;  took  a  look  at  the  gray 
people  ;  fired  a  gun  or  two  before  retreating — and  a  thousand 
Southern  journalists  shouted  "lo,  triumphe! — a  grand  victory!" 
The  brave  Del,  Kemper  fired  a  shot  at  the  Federal  train  ap- 
jjtroaching  Vienna,  and  the  journalists  cried,  "we  have  driven 
back  the  whole  Federal  army  I" 

Then  some  real  fighting  came,  and  the  applause  was  again 
tremendous.  When  the  news  of  the  first  Manassas  flashed  over 
the  wires,  the  Southern  people  stood  upon  their  heads,  and  went 
wild.  The  war  was  ended — the  affair  was  over — the  brass  bands, 
and  rolling  drums,  and  dazzling  uniforms  had  speedily  done  the 
business.  The  power  of  the  North  was  broken.  She  had  run 
upon  the  breakers.  The  great  hulk  was  lying  stranded,  the 
■waves  were  beating  her,  and  she  was  about  to  go  to  pieces. 

Such  was  1861 — an  era  of  mirth,  inexperience,  inflated  views, 
brilliant  pageants,  gay  adventures,  ruddy  cheeks,  sparkling  eyes 
and  splendid  banners,  floating  proudly  in  the  sunshine  of  victory ! 

1862  came,  and  with  it  a  new  phase  of  the  war.  Sweat,  dust, 
and  blood  had  replaced  the  music  and  wreaths  of  roses.  Faces, 
were  not  so  ruddy — they  began  to  look  war-worn.  The 
rounded  cheeks  had  become  gaunt.  The  bright  uniforms  were 
battle-soiled.  Smoke  had  stained  them,  the  bivouac  dimmed 
them,  the  sun  had  changed  the  blue-gray  to  a  sort  of  scorched 
yellow.  Waving  handkerchiefs  still  greeted  the  troops — as  they 
greeted  them  to  the  end  of  the  war.  But  few  flowers  were  thrown 
now — their  good  angels  looked  on  in  silence,  and  prayed  for  them. 


14-2  MOHUX. 

They  were  no  longer  holiday  soldiers,  but  were  hardened  in 
battle.  They  knew  the  work  before  them,  and  advanced  to  it 
with  the  measured  tramp  of  veterans.  They  fought  as  well  as 
soldiers  have  ever  fought  in  this  world.  Bid  they  not  ?  Answer, 
Cold  Harbor,  Malvern  Hill,  Cedar  Mountain,  Manassas,  Boons- 
boro\  Sharpsburg,  and  Fredericksburg!  And  every  battle, 
nearly,  was  a  victory.  In  the  lowlands  and  the  mountains — in 
Virginia  and  Maryland — they  bore  aloft  the  banner  of  the  South 
in  stalwart  hands,  and  carried  it  forward  with  unshrinking  hearts, 
to  that  baptism  of  blood  awaiting  it.  That  was  the  great  year 
for  the  South.  The  hour  was  dark — a  huge  foe  fronted  us — but 
wherever  that  foe  was  met,  he  seemed  to  reel  before  the  mailed 
hand  that  buffeted  his  front.  All  frippery  and  decoration  had 
long  been  stripped  from  the  army.  The  fingers  of  war — real 
war — had  torn  off  the  gaudy  trappings ;  and  the  grim  lips  had 
muttered,  ''  What  I  want  is  hard  muscle,  and  the  brave  heart — 
not  tinsel  I"  The  bands  were  seldom  heard — the  musicians  were 
tending  the  wounded.  The  drums  had  ceased  their  jovial  rattle, 
and  were  chiefly  used  in  the  "  long  roll,"  which  said  "  Get  ready, 
boys!  they  are  coming!" 

So  in  the  midst  of  smoke  and  dust, — with  yells  of  triumph,  or 
groans  of  agony,  in  place  of  the  gay  cheering — passed  that  year 
of  battles,  1862. 

The  South  was  no  longer  romantic  and  elated  on  the  subject 
of  the  war.  The  soldiers  no  longer  looked  out  for  adventures, 
or  for  the  glorious  cannon-ball  to  carry  off  their  heads,  and  make 
their  names  immortal.  At  home,  the  old  men  were  arming,  and 
the  women  sending  words  of  cheer  to  their  husbands  and  sons, 
and  praying.  In  the  camps,  the  old  soldiers  had  forgotten  the 
wreaths  of  roses.  Their  havelocks  were  worn  out,  and  they  no 
longer  minded  the  sun.  Gray  flannel  had  replaced  the  "fancy" 
shirt  bosoms ;  they  carried  tobacco  in  their  pockets ;  and  you 
saw  them,  seated  on  some  log,  busy  sewing  on  buttons,  the  faces 
once  so  round  and  ruddy,  now  gaunt  and  stained  with  powder. 

1863  came,  and  it  was  an  army  of  veterans  that  struck  Hooker 
at  Chancellorsville.  It  was  no  longer  a  company  of  gay  gallants 
marching  by,  amid  music,  waving  scarfs,  and  showers  of  nose- 
gays from  fairy  hands.     It  was  a  stormy  wave  of  gaunt  warriors, 


LEE'S     "RAGGED    REGIMENTS."         143 

in  ragged  clothes  and  begrimed  faces,  wlio  clutched  their  shining 
muskets,  rushed  headlong  over  the  breastworks,  and,  rolling 
through  the  blazing  and  crackling  woods,  swept  the  enemy  at  the 
point  of  the  bayonet,  with  the  hoarse  and  menacing  cry,  "  Re- 
member Jackson!"  Gettysburg  followed — never  was  grapple 
more  fierce  than  that,  as  we  have  seen;  and  when  the  veterans 
of  Lee  were  hurled  back,  the  soil  of  the  continent  seemed  to 
shake.  They  were  repulsed  and  retreated,  but  as  the  lion  re- 
treats before  the  huntsman,  glaring  back,  and  admonishing  him 
not  to  follow  too  closely,  if  he  -would  consult  his  own  safety. 
At  Williamsport  the  wounded  lion  halted  and  turned — his  pur- 
suer did  not  assail  him — and  he  crossed  the  Potomac,  and  de- 
scended to  the  Rapidan,  to  strike  in  turn  that  dangerous  blow  in 
October,  when  Meade  was  nearly  cut  off  from  Washington. 

With  that  campaign  of  Bristoe,  and  the  fiasco  of  Mine  Run, 
the  year  1863  ended. 

It  left  the  South  bleeding,  and  what  was  worse, — discouraged. 
Affairs  were  mismanaged.  The  armv  had  scarcely  sufficient 
meat  and  bread  to  live  on.  The  croakers,  clad  in  black  coats, 
and  with  snowy  shirt  bosoms,  began  to  mutter  under  their  breath, 
"  It  is  useless  to  struggle  longer  !" — and,  recoiling  in  disgust  from 
the  hard  fare  of  "  war  times,"  began  to  hunger  for  the  flesli-pots 
of  Egypt.  Manna  was  tasteless  now  ;  the  task-master  was  better 
than  the  wilderness  and  the  scant  fare.  Oh !  to  sit  by  the  flesh- 
pots  and  grow  fat,  as  in  the  days  when  they  did  eat  thereof!  Why 
continue  the  conflict?  Why  waste  valuable  lives?  Why  think  of 
still  fighting  when  flour  was  a  hundred  dollars  a  barrel,  coffee 
twenty  dollars  a  pound,  cloth  fifty  dollars  a  yard,  and  good 
whiskey  and  brandy  not  to  be  purchased  at  any  price  ?  Could  pat- 
riotism live  amid  trials  like  that?  Could  men  cling  to  a  cause 
which  made  them  the  victims  of  Yankee  cavalry  ?  Why  have 
faith  any  longer  in  a  government  that  was  bankrupt — whose 
promises  to  pay  originated  the  scoffing  proverb,  "  as  worthless  as 
a  Confederate  note!"  Meat  and  drink  was  the  religion  of  tiie 
croakers  in  those  days.  Money  was  their  real  divinity.  Without 
meat  and  drink,  and  with  worthless  money,  the  Confederacy,  in 
their  eyes,  was  not  the  side  to  adhere  to.  It  was  unfortunate — 
dov/n  with  it !     Let  it  be  anathema-marauatha  ! 


144  MOHUN. 

The  croakers  said  that — and  the  brave  hearts  whom  they  in- 
sulted could  not  silence  thera.  There  were  stout  souls  in  black 
coats — but  the  croakers  distilled  their  poison,  working  busily  in 
the  darkness.  It  was  the  croakers  who  bought  up  the  supplies, 
and  hoarded  them  in  garrets,  and  retailed  them  in  driblets,  there- 
by causing  the  enormous  prices  which,  according  to  them,  fore- 
told the  coming  downfall.  They  evaded  the  conscript  officers  ; 
grew  fat  on  their  extortions;  and  one  day  you  would  miss  them 
from  their  accustomed  haunts — they  had  flitted  across  the  Poto- 
mac, and  were  drinking  their  wine  in  New  York,  London,  or 
Paris. 

Meanwhile,  three  classes  of  persons  remained  faithful  to  the 
death : — the  old  men,  the  army,  and  the  women. 

The  gray-beards  were  taking  down  their  old  guns  and  swords, 
and  forming  home-battalions,  to  fight  the  enemy  to  the  death 
when  his  cavalry  came  to  lay  waste  the  country. 

The  women  were  weaving  homespun,  knitting  socks,  nursing 
the  wounded,  and  praying.  They  had  never  ceased  to  pray,  nor 
had  they  lost  the  heart  of  hope.  The  croakers  believed  in  suc- 
cess, and  their  patron  saint  was  Mammon.  The  women  believed 
in  the  justice  of  the  cause,  and  in  God.  In  1801,  they  had 
cheered  the  soldiers,  and  waved  their  handkerchiefs,  and  rained 
bouquets.  In  1862,  they  had  sent  brave  words  of  encouragement, 
and  bade  their  sons,  and  brothers,  and  husbands  fight  to  the  end. 
In  1863,  they  repeated  that — sent  the  laggards  back  to  the  ranks 
— and  when  they  were  not  sewing,  or  nursing  the  sick^  were 
praying.  O  women  of  Virginia,  and  the  great  South  to  her  far- 
thest limits,  there  is  nothing  in  all  history  that  surpasses  your 
grand  record!  You  hoped,  in  the  dark  days  as  in  the  bright; — 
when  bearded  men  shrunk,  you  fronted  the  storm  unmoved ! 
Always  you  hoped,  and  endured,  and  prayed  for  the  land.  Had 
the  rest  done  their  dutv  like  the  women  and  the  armv,  the  red- 
cross  flag  would  be  floating  to-day  in  triumph ! 

The  army — that  was  unshaken.  Gettysburg  had  not  broken  its 
strength,  nor  affected  its  stout  manhood.  Lee's  old  soldiers  be- 
lieved in  him  after  Gettysburg,  in  the  winter  of  '63,  as  they  had 
believed  in  him  after  Fredericksburg,  in  the  winter  of  '62.  They 
had  confidence  still  in  their  great  leader,  and  in  their  cause.    Tlie 


HAMMER     AND     RAPIER.  145 

wide  gaps  in  their  ranks  did  not  dismay  them ;  want  of  food  did 
not  discourage  them ;  hunger,  hardships,  nakedness,  defeat, — they 
had  borne  these  in  the  past,  they  were  bearing  them  still,  they 
were  ready  to  bear  them  in  the  future.  War  did  not  fright  them 
— though  the  coming  conflict  was  plainly  going  to  be  more  bitter 
than  any  before.  The  great  array  of  Grant  on  the  north  bank  of 
the  Rapidan  did  not  depre&s  them — had  they  not  met  and  defeated 
at  Fredericksburg  and  Chancellorsville  a  force  as  great,  and  could 
not  they  do  it  again  ? 

So  they  lay  in  their  camps  on  the  Rapidan,  in  that  cold  winter 
of  1863 — a  little  army  of  ragged  and  hungry  men,  with  gaunt 
faces,  wasted  forms,  shoeless  feet;  with  nothing  to  encourage 
them  but  the  cause,  past  victories,  and  Lee's  presence.  That  was 
much ;  what  was  enough,  however,  was  the  blood  in  their  veins ; 
the  inspiration  of  the  great  race  of  fighting  men  from  whom  they 
derived  their  origin.  Does  any  one  laugh  at  that?  The  winner 
will — but  the  truth  remains. 

That  ragged  and  famished  army  came  of  a  fighting  race.  It 
was  starving  and  dying,  but  it  was  going  to  fight  to  the  last. 

When  the  cannon  began  to  roar  in  May,  1864,  these  gaunt  vet- 
erans were  in  line,  with  ragged  coats,  but  burnished  bayonets. 
When  Lee,  the  gray  cavalier,  rode  along  their  lines,  the  woods 
thundered  with  a  cheer  which  said,  "  Ready  !" 


XVI. 

HAMMER    AND    RAPIER. 


I  PASS  to  the  great  collision  of  armies  in  the  first  days  of 
May. 

Why  say  any  thing  of  that  dark  episode  called  "  Dahlgren's 
raid?"  A  full  account  would  be  too  long — a  brief  sketch  too 
short.  And  whatever  our  Northern  friends  may  think,  it  is  not 
agreeable  to  us  to  dwell  on  that  outrage.  Was  that  war  ?  Was 
it  civilized  warfare  to  march  in  the  darkness  upon  a  city  full  of 


146  MO  HUN". 

women  and  children — to  \Aiin  the  assassination  of  the  Southern 
President  and  his  cabinet;  the  destruction  of  the  city  by  the 
torch  ;  the  release  of  the  Federal  prisoners  at  Belle  Isle,  to  be  let 
loose  afterward  with  fire  and  sword  on  Richmond? 

Alas!  all  that  was  planned.  The  orders  were  captured,  and 
exist  still.  Was  that  war  ?  I  repeat.  Answer,  friends  of  the 
North.     Or,  did  you  think  us  mere  wild  beasts? 

I  omit  all  that ;  passing  on  to  the  real  fighting. 

General  Ulysses  S.  Grant  had  been  appointed  commander-in- 
chief  of  the  armies  of  the  United  States,  and  had  taken  com- 
mand in  person  of  the  army  of  the  Potomac,  confronting  Lee  on 
the  Rapidan. 

Before  the  curtain  rises,  and  the  cannon  begin  to  roar,  let  ns 
glance  at  the  relative  numbers,  and  the  programme  of  the  Federal 
leader. 

Grant's  "  available  force  present  for  duty.  May  1,  1864,"  was, 
according  to  the  report  of  the  Federal  Secretary  of  War,  141, 1G6 
men. 

Lee's  force,  "present  for  duty,"  as  his  army  rolls  will  show, 
was  52,626  men.  That  is  to  say,  rather  more  than  one-third  of 
his  adversary's. 

Lee  afterward  received  about  10,000  re-enforceraents  from  Beau- 
regard's columns.     Grant  received  about  50,000. 

With  about  62,000  men  Lee  repulsed  the  attacks  of  Grant  with 
about  200,000  men,  from  the  Rapidan  to  Petersburg — inflicting  a 
loss  on  his  adversary,  by  the  Federal  statement  of  more  than 
60,000  men. 

These  numbers  may  be  denied,  but  the  proof  is  on  record. 

The  programme  of  General  Grant  in  the  approaching  campaign 
was  one  of  very  great  simplicity.  He  intended  to  "hammer  con- 
tinuously>"  as  he  wrote  to  President  Lincoln,  and  crush  his  adver- 
sary at  whatever  expense  of  money  and  blood.  From  1861  to 
1864,  war  had  been  war,  such  as  the  world  understands  it. 
Pitched  battles  had  been  fought — defeats  sustained — or  victories 
gained. 

Then  the  adversaries  rested  before  new  pitched  battles :  more 
defeats  or  victories.  General  Grant  had  determined  to  change 
all  that.  It  had  been  tried,  and  had  failed.  He  possessed  a  gigantic 


r 


HAMMER     AND     PwAPIER.  147 

■weapon,  the  army  of  the  United  States.  In  his  grasp  was  a 
huge  sledge-hammer — the  army  of  the  Potomac.  He  was  going 
to  clutch  that  tremendous  weapon,  whirl  it  aloft  like  a  new  Vul- 
can, and  strike  straight  at  Lee's  crest,  and  try  to  end  him.  If 
one  blow  did  not  suffice,  he  was  going  to  try  another.  If  that 
failed,  in  its  turn,  he  would  strike  another  and  another.  All  the 
year  was  before  him ;  there  were  new  men  to  fill  tlie  places  of 
those  w^ho  fell ;  blood  might  gush  in  torrents,  but  the  end  was 
worth  the  cost.  "Would  it  hurl  a  hundred  thousand  men  into 
bloody  graves?  That  was  unfortunate,  but  unavoidable.  Would 
the  struggle  frighten  and  horrify  the  world  ?  It  was  possible. 
But  these  things  w'ere  unimportant.  The  rebellion  must  be 
crushed.  The  sledge-hammer  must  strike  until  Lee's  keen  rapier 
was  shattered.  Hammer  and  rapier  were  matched  against  each 
other — the  combat  was  a  routrance— the  hammer  must  beat 
down  the  rapier,  or  fall  from  the  grasp  of  him  who  wielded  it. 

Such  was  the  programme  of  General  Grant.  It  was  not  war 
exactly,  in  the  old  acceptation  of  the  term.  It  was  not  taught  by 
Jomini,  or  practised  by  Napoleon.  You  would  have  said,  indeed, 
at  the  first  glance,  that  it  rejected  the  idea  of  generalship  m  toto. 
Let  us  give  General  Grant  his  just  dues,  however.  He  was  not  a 
great  commander,  but  he  teas  a  man  of  clear  brain.  He  saw  that 
brute  force  could  alone  shatter  the  army  of  Northern  Virginia ; 
that  to  w^ear  it  away  by  attrition,  exhaust  its  blood  drop  by  drop, 
was  the  only  thing  left — and  he  had  the  courage  to  adopt  that 
programme. 

To  come  back  to  events  on  the  Rapidan  in  the  month  of  May, 
1864. 

Lee  is  ready  for  the  great  collision,  now  seen  to  be  inevitable. 
His  right,  under  Ewell,  occupies  the  works  on  the  southern  bank   , 
of  the  Rapidan,  above  Chancellorsville.     His  centre,  under  A.  P. 
Hill,  lies  near  Orange  Court-House.     His  left,  under  Longstreet, 
is  in  reserve  near  Gordonsville. 

The  army  of  Northern  Virginia  is  thus  posted  in  echelon  of 
corps,  extending  from  Gordonsville,  by  Orange,  toward  the  fords 
of  the  Rapidan. 

When  the  enemy  cross  on  their  great  advance,  Ewell  is  ready 


148  MOHUK. 

to  fuco  east ;  Hill  will  close  in  on  liis  right;  and  Longstreet  in  the 
same  manner  on  Hill's  right.  Then  the  armj  will  be  in  line, 
ready  to  strike  at  Grant's  flank  as  he  moves  through  the  "Wilder- 
ness. 

For  Lee  is  going  to  strike  at  him.  The  fifty  thousand  are  going 
to  order  the  one  hundred  and  forty  thousand  to  halt. 

Stuart's  cavalry  is  watching.  It  extends  from  Madison  Court- 
House,  along  Robertson  River,  on  the  left  of  the  army ;  and  on 
the  right,  from  Swell's  camps,  past  Chancellorsville,  to  Freder- 
icksburg. 

Such  was  the  situation  on  the  first  of  May.  The  two  tigers 
were  watching  each  other — and  one  was  about  to  spring. 


XVII. 

FORT    DELAWARE. 


To  descend  now  .from  the  heights  of  generalization  to  the 
X>lain3  of  incident  and  personal  observation. 

For  this  volume  is  not  a  history  of  the  war  in  Virginia,  but  the 
memoirs  of  a  staff  officer  belonging  to  Stuart's  cavalry. 

May,  1864,  had  come;  we  were  soon  to  be  in  the  saddle  ;  the 
thundering  hammer  of  General  Grant  was  about  to  commence  its 
performances. 

One  night — it  was  the  night  of  the  first  of  May — I  was  sitting 
in  General  Stuart's  tent,  looking  into  his  blazing  log  fire,  and 
musing.  In  this  luxury  I  was  not  interrupted.  It  was  nearly 
midnight,  and  the  rest  of  the  staff  had  retired.  Stuart  was 
writing  at  his  desk,  by  the  light  of  a  candle  in  a  captured  "  camp 
candlestick,"  and  from  time  to  time,  without  turning  his  head, 
ejaculated  some  brief  words  upon  any  subject  which  came  into 
his  head. 

After  writing  ten  minutes,  he  now  said  briefly  : — 

"  Surrv." 

"  General,"  was  ray  as  brief  response. 

"  I  think  Mohun  was  a  friend  of  yours  ?" 

"  Yes,  general,  we  became  intimate  on  the  march  to  Gettysourg." 


FORT    DELAWAEE.  I49 

"  Well,  I  have  just  received  his  commission — " 
' '  You  mean  as — " 

'•  Brigadier-general.     You  know  I  long  ago  applied  for  it." 
"  I  knew  that — pity  he  has  not  been  exchanged." 
"A  great  pitj, — and  you  miss  a  pleasure  I  promised  myself 
I  would  give  you." 

"  What  pleasure,  general  ?" 

"To  take  Mohun  his  commission  with  your  own  hands." 
"  I  am  truly  sorry  I  can  not.  You  know  he  was  terribly  wound- 
ed, and  we  had  to  leave  him  in  Warrenton ;  then  the  enemy  ad- 
vanced; for  a  long  time  we  thought  him  dead.  Thus  I  am  sorry 
I  am  debarred  the  pleasure  you  offer.  Some  day  I  hope  to  accept 
your  offer." 

"Accept  it  now,  colonel,"  said  a  benignant  voice  at  the  door. 
I  turned  suddenly,  as  did  the  general.  At  the  opening  of  the 
tent,  a  head  was  seen — the  head  passed  through — was  followed 
by  a  body, — and  Mr.  Nighthawk,  private  and  confidential  emis- 
sary, glided  in  with  the  stealthy  step  of  a  wild-cat. 

He  was  unchanged.  His  small  eyes  were  as  piercing,  his  smile 
as  benignant,  his  costume — black  coat,  white  cravat,  and  "  stove- 
pipe "  hat — as  clerical  as  before. 

"Good  evening,  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Nighthawk,  smiling 
sweetly;   "I  bring  news  of  Colonel  Mohun." 

"And  fly  in  like  an  owl,  or  your  namesake!"  laughed  Stuart. 
"An  owl?     I  am  told  that  is  the  bird  of  wisdom,  gentlemen !" 
"  You  hit  the  nail  on  the  head,  when  you  said  'gentlemen  ."  "  * 
replied  Stuart,  laughing;   "but  how  about  Mohun?     Is  he  ex- 
changed, Nighthawk?" 

And  Stuart  wheeled  round  and  pointed  to  a  chair. 
Nighthawk  sat  down  modestly. 

"Not  exchanged,  exactly,  general;  but  safe!"  he  said. 
"  He  escaped  ?" 
"Exactly,  general." 
"And  you  helped  him?" 
"I  believe  so." 

"Good!     You  really  are  a  trump,  Nighthawk — and  you  seem 
to  have  a  peculiar  fancy  for  Mohun." 

*  A  favdrite  phrase  of  Stuart's. 


150  MOHUN. 

"He  is  the  best  friend  I  have  in  the  world,  general." 
"  Well,  that  accounts  for  it.  But  how  did  he  escape?" 
"I  will  tell  you  in  a  few  words,  general.  I  rather  pride  my- 
self on  the  manner  in  which  I  conducted  the  little  affiiir.  You 
remember,  Colonel  Mohun  was  very  badly  wounded  when  you 
defeated  Kilpatrick  at  Buckland.  It  was  in  a  fight  with  Colonel 
Darke,  of  the  Federal  cavalry,  who  was  also  wounded  and  left 
dying,  as  was  erroneously  supposed,  at  a  small  house  on  the  road- 
side, when  you  fell  back.  Colonel  Mohun  was  left  at  "Warren- 
ton,  his  wound  being  so  severe  that  he  could  not  be  brought  far- 
ther in  his  ambulance,  and  here  he  staid  until  he  was  conva- 
lescent. His  recovery  was  miraculous,  as  a  bullet  had  passed 
through  his  breast;  but  he  is  a  gentleman  of  vigorous  constitu- 
tion, and  he  rallied  at  last,  but,  unfortunately,  to  find  himself  a 
prisoner.  General  Meade  had  reoccupied  the  country,  and  Col- 
onel Mohun  was  transferred  from  hospital  to  Fort  Delaware,  as  a 
prisoner  of  war. 

"I  have  informed  you,  general,"  continued  Mr.  Nighthawk, 
smiling,  and  turning  the  rim  of  his  black  hat  between  his  fingers, 
"that  Colonel  Mohun  was  one  of  my  best  friends.  For  that 
reason,  I  went  to  see  him  at  Warrenton,  and  had  arranged  a  very 
good  plan  for  his  escape,  when,  unfortunately,  he  was  all  at  once 
sent  away,  thereby  disappointing  all  ray  schemes.  I  followed, 
however,  saw  that  he  was  taken  to  Fort  Delaware,  and  proceeded 
thither  at  once.  You  have  probably  not  visited  this  place,  gen- 
eral, or  you,  colonel.  It  is  a  fort,  and  outside  is  a  pen,  or  stock- 
ade as  it  is  called,  covering  two  or  three  acres.  Inside  are  cabins 
for  the  prisoners,  in  the  shape  of  a  semicircle,  and  grounds  to 
walk  in,  except  in  the  space  marked  off  by  the  'dead  line.'  If 
any  prisoner  crosses  that  he  is  shot  by  the  sentries,  whose  beat  is 
on  a  platform  running  round  upon  the  top  of  the  stockade. 

""Well,  I  went  to  the  place,  and  found  that  Colonel  Mohun  was 
confined  with  other  ofllcers  in  the  pen,  where  they  had  the  usual 
Federal  ration  of  watery  soup,  bad  meat,  and  musty  crackers. 
For  a  gentleman,  like  himself,  accustomed  before  the  war  to  every 
luxury  that  unbounded  wealth  could  supply,  this  was  naturally 
disagreeable,  and  I  determined  to  omit  no  exertion  to  effect  his 
escape. 


THE    TJNIFORM 


151 


"Unfortunately,  the  rules  of  Fort  Delaware  are  very  strict 
however.  To  cross  the  'dead  line '  is  death;  to  attempt  to  bur- 
row is  confinement  in  irons,  and  other  degrading  punishments- 
and  to  bribe  the  sentinels  invariably  resulted  in  having  the  whole 
affair  revealed,  after  they  had  received  the  money.  It  really 
seemed  as  if  Colonel  Mohun  were  doomed  to  the  living  death  of 
a  filthy  prison  until  the  end  of  the  war,  since  exchanges  had 
ceased,  and  it  was  only  by  devising  a  ruse  of  very  great  risk  that 
I  accomplished  the  end  in  view." 

"What  was  your  plan,  Nighthawk?"  said  Stuart,  rising  and 
moving  to  the  fireplace,  where  he  stood  basking  in  the  wal-mth. 
"  Original,  I  lay  my  life,  and— quiet." 

"  Exactly  that,  general." 

And  Nighthawk  smiled  sweetly. 


XVIII. 

THE  UNIFOEM. 

"  I  HAVE  always  observed,  general,"  said  Mr.  Kighthawk,  rais- 
ing his  eyes  in  pious  meditation,  as  it  were,  "  that  there  is  no  bet- 
ter rule  for  a  man's  conduct  in  life  than  to  make  friends  with  the 
mammon  of  unrighteousness — people  in  power." 

"A  profound  maxim,"  laughed  Stuart;  "friends  are  useful— 
that  was  your  principle?" 

"  Yes,  general ;  and  I  made  one  of  the  quartermaster  of  the 
post— a  certain  major  Woodby— who  was  exceedingly  fond  of  the 
'  root  of  all  evil.'  I  made  that  gentleman's  acquaintance,  applied 
for  the  place  of  sutler  in  the  pen ;  and  this  place  I  acquired  by 
agreeing  to  pay  a  heavy  bonus  in  thirty  days. 

"  This  was  Saturday  night.  On  Monday  morning  I  presented 
myself  before  the  gate,  and  demanded  admittance  as  the  newly 
appointed  sutler  of  the  pen. 

"I  was  admitted,  and  taken  before  the  officer  of  the  day,  in  his 
quarters. 

7 


Li   I 
U  t 


152  MOHUN. 

''  'Who  are  you?'  he  asked,  gruffly. 

"  'The  new  sutler,  lieutenant.' 

"  '  Where  are  your  papers?' 

"  I  had  them  ready,  and  presented  them  to  him.  He  read  them 
carefully,  looked  at  me  superciliously,  and  said  : — 

"  'That  is  wholly  informal.' 

"  I  looked  at  him.     He  had  a  red  nose. 

"  'I  have  some  excellent  French  brandy,  captain,'  I  said,  pro- 
moting him. 

"At  sight  of  the  portly  flask  which  I  drew  half  from  my  pocket 
and  exhibited  to  him,  I  saw  his  face  relax. 

"  '  You  are  a  keen  fellow,  and  know  the  world,  I  perceive,'  he 
said. 

"And  taking  the  flask,  he  poured  out  nearly  a  glass  full  of  the 
brandy,  and  drank  it. 

Do  you  intend  to  keep  that  article  of  brandy  V  he  said. 
For  my  friends,  captain,'  I  replied,  with  a  wink  which  he 
evidently  understood. 

"  '  Let  me  see  your  papers  again.' 

"  I  unfolded  them,  and  he  glanced  at  them. 

"  '  All  right — they  are  in  regular  form.  There  is  the  key  of  the 
sutler's  shop,  on  that  nail.     Take  possession.' 

"And  my  friend  the  captain  emptied  a  second  glass  of  the 
brandy,  and  made  me  a  sign  that  I  could  go. 

"  I  bowed  profoundly ;  took  the  key ;  and  went  and  opened  the 
sutler's  shop  ;  after  which  I  strolled  out  to  look  at  the  prisoners 
in  the  area.  The  sentinel  had  seen  me  visit  the  oflficer  of  the  day, 
and  go  to  the  sutler's  shop.  Thus  he  did  not  interfere  with  me 
when  I  went  into  the  area,  as  I  was  obviously  a  good  Union  man 
and  an  employee  of  the  post. 

"  Such  was  the  manner  in  which  I  secured  a  private  interview 
with  Colonel  Mohun :  we  could  talk  without  the  presence  of  a 
corporal ;  and  we  soon  arranged  the  plan  for  his  escape. 

"  I  had  determined  to  procure  a  Federal  uniform,  to  be  smug- 
gled in  to  him,  and  an  hour  afterward,  I  left  him,  promising  to 
see  him  again  as  soon  as  I  could  visit  Wilmington,  and  return 
with  the  intended  disguise. 

"A  strange  piece  of  good  fortune  aided  me,  or  rather  accom- 


THE    UNIFORM.  I53 

plished  my  purpose  at  once.  I  bad  scarcely  returned  to  tlie  sut- 
ler's shop,  and  spread  some  blankets  to  sleep  upon,  when  the  offi- 
cer of  the  day  came  in,  and  I  saw  at  a  glance  that  he  was  half 
intoxicated,  in  consequence  of  the  large  amount  of  brandy  which 
he  had  swallowed.  In  a  thick  and  husky  voice  he  cursed  the 
'stuff'  vended  at  the  post,  extolled  'the  article'  I  carried,  and 
demanded  another  pull  at  the  flask.  I  looked  at  him — saw  that 
a  little  more  would  make  him  dead-drunk — and  all  at  once  re- 
solved on  my  plan. 

"This  was,"  continued  Mr.  Nighthawk,  with  modest  simplici- 
ty, and  smiling  as  he  spoke,  "  to  make  my  friend,  the  officer  of 
the  day,  dead-drunk,  and  then  borrow  his  uniform ;  and  I  suc- 
ceeded. In  half  an  hour  he  was  maudlin.  In  three-quarters  of 
an  hour,  drunk.  Five  minutes  afterward  he  fell  out  of  his  chair, 
and  began  to  snore,  where  he  lay. 

"  I  secured  the  door  tightly,  stripped  off  his  uniform,  then  my 
own  clothing ;  put  on  his,  and  then  replaced  my  own  citizen's 
dress  over  all,  concealed  his  cap  and  boots  beneath  my  over- 
coat, wrapped  the  prostrate  lieutenant  in  my  blankets  for  fear  he 
would  take  cold,  and  going  out,  locked  the  door  and  proceeded 
to  the  quarters  of  the  prisoners.  Again  the  sentinel  took  no 
notice  of  me.  I  found  Colonel  Mohun  in  his  'bunk.'  Ten  min- 
utes afterward  he  had  replaced  his  gray  uniform  with  that  of 
the  Federal  lieutenant,  and,  watching  the  moment  when  the  back 
of  the  sentinel  was  turned,  we  walked  together  toward  the  gate 
of  the  pen. 

"  That  was  the  moment  of  real  danger.  Outside  the  narrow 
gate  another  sentinel  was  posted,  and  the  man  might  be  person- 
ally acquainted  with  the  officer  of  the  day,  or  have  noticed  his 
appearance.  Luckily,  the  guard  had  been  relieved  about  an  hour 
before — the  new  sentinel  had  not  seen  the  officer  of  the  day — and 
when  Colonel  Mohun  put  his  head  through  the  little  window  be- 
side the  gate,  ordering  'Open!'  the  gate  flew  open,  the  sentinel 
presented  arms  as  he  passed,  and  I  followed  modestly — the  door 
banging-to  behind  us."  * 


1* 


*  Fact. 


15i  MOHUN. 

XIX. 

THE  NOTE. 

*'  Thus  the  colonel  was  out  of  the  pen,"  continned  Nighthawk, 
smiling.  "  The  rest  was  not  very  dangerous,  unless  tlie  alarm 
were  given.  They  might  miss  the  locked-up  officer — he  might 
have  heen  seen  to  go  into  the  sutler's  shop — and  I  admonished 
Colonel  Mohan,  in  a  low  tone,  to  proceed  as  rapidly  as  possible 
in  a  direction  which  I  pointed  out. 

"The  path  indicated  led  to  a  spot  on  the  island  where  I  had 
concealed  a  small  boat  among  some  willows — and,  once  across  on 
the  mainland,  I  hoped  that  the  danger  would  be  over, 

"In  spite  of  my  admonitions,  Colonel  Mohun  took  his  time. 
He  is  a  cool  one!  He  even  turned  and  walked  toward  the  fort, 
which  he  carefully  examined — counting  the  guns,  observing  the 
ditches,  and  the  ground  around  it. 

"'That  place  could  be  taken,  Nighthawkl'  he  said,  with  a 
laugh.  And  he  continued  to  stroll  around  the  place,  receiving  at 
every  moment  respectful  salutes  from  passing  soldiers,  which  he 
returned  with  the  utmost  coolness,  and  an  air  of  authority  which 
I  never  have  seen  surpassed.  I  declare  to  you,  general,  that  it 
made  the  sweat  burst  out  on  my  forehead,  and  it  was  fully  an 
hour  before  we  reached  the  boat.  I  sprung  in  and  seized  the 
oars,  for  I  saw  a  dozen  soldiers  approaching  us  from  the  direction 
of  the  fort. 

"'For  heaven's  sake,  sit  down,  colonel,'  I  exclaimed;  'in  five 
minutes  we  will  be  lost!' 

"  He  did  not  reply.  He  was  feeling  in  the  pockets  of  the  lieu- 
tenant's coat;  and  drew  out  a  note-book  with  a  pencil  attached. 
Then,  as  the  men  came  toward  us,  he  began  to  write.  I  looked 
over  his  shoulder — a  bad  habit  I  acknowledge,  general — and  I 
read  these  words : — 

" '  Colonel  Mohun,  C.  S.  A.,  presents  his  compliments  to  the 
commanding  officer  of  Fort  Delaware,  and  recommends  the  10- 
inch  Columbiad  in  place  of  the  30-lb.  Parrotts  on  the  bastion  near 
the  southern  angle  of  the  work. 


THE    KOTE.  15.^ 

"  '  A3  Colonel  M.  is  en  route  for  Richmond  via  Wilmington,  and 
the  train  will  soon  pass,  he  is  compelled  to  refrain  from  other 
suggestions  which  occur  to  him. 

"  '  The  commandant  of  the  post  will  pardon  the  want  of  cere- 
mony of  his  departure.  This  distressing  separation  is  dictated  by 
necessity.'  " 

Nighthawk  smiled  as  he  repeated  the  words  of  Mohun's   note. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  cooler  hand,  general  ?  But  I  must 
end  my  long  story.  The  colonel  wrote  this  note  while  the  sol- 
diers were  coming  toward  us.  When  they  had  come  within  ten 
steps,  he  beckoned  to  one  of  them-the  man  came  up,  saluting- 
and  the  colonel  said,  '  Take  this  note  to  the  commandant-go  at 
once.' 

"My  heart  had  jumped  to  my  throat,  general!  The  next 
moment  I  drew  a  good  long  breath  of  real  relief.  The  Federal 
soldier  touched  his  cap,  took  the  note,  and  went  back  toward 
the  fort.  ^  Without  further  delay,  I  pushed  out  and  rowed  across 
to  the  mainland,  where  we  soon  arrived. 

"  Then  we  left  the  boat,  struck  into  the  fields,  and  pushed  for 
the  nearest  station  on  the  railroad.  On  the  way,  I  could  not  re- 
frain from  upbraiding  the  colonel  with  his  imprudence.  He  only 
laughed,  however,  and  we  went  on  without  stopping.  An  hour 
afterward  we  reached  the  station,  and  the  northern  train  soon 
came.  We  got  in,  the  cars  started,  and  we  were  en  route  for 
Baltimore.  Suddenly  the  dull  sound  of  a  cannon-shot  came  from 
the  direction  of  Fort  Delaware.  A  moment  afterward  came 
another,  and  then  a  third. 

"  '  A  prisoner  has  escaped  from  Fort  Delaware,'  said  one  of  the 
passengers  near  us,  raising  his  eyes  from  a  newspaper.  Colonel 
Mohun  laughed,  and  said  carelessly,  without  sinking  his  voice  in 
the  least,  'Ten  to  one  they  have  found  yoar  friend,  the  lieuten- 
ant, Nighthawk  I '  Such  a  man,  general !  It  was  enough  to  make 
your  blood  run  cold  !  I  thought  /was  cool,  but  I  assure  you  I 
never  imagined  a  man  could  equal  that.  ' 

"  We  reached  Baltimore,  made  the  connection  with  the  train 
gomg  west  to  Wheeling,  and  disembarked  at  Martinsbur-  There 
the  colonel  procured  a  horse-rode  to  a  friend's  on  the'opequan 
-changed  his  blue  dress  for  a  citizen's  suit,  and  proceeded  to 


156  MOHUN. 

Staunton,  thence  to  Richmond,  and  yesterday  rejoined  his  regi- 
ment, near  Chancellorsville." 


XX. 

GENERAL    GRANT'S   PRIVATE    ORDER. 

Stuart  kicked  a  log,  which  had  fallen  on  the  hearth,  back  into 
the  fire,  and  said  : — 

"  "Well,  Nighthawk,  your  narrative  only  proves  one  thing." 

"  What,  general  ?" 

"That  the  writer  who  hereafter  relates  the  true  stories  of  this 
war,  will  be  set  down  as  a  Baron  Munchausen." 

"No  doubt  of  that,  general." 

"  This  escape  of  Colonel  Mohun,  for  instance,  will  be  dis- 
credited." 

"  No  matter,  it  took  place  ;  but  I  have  not  told  you  what 
brought  me  over,  general." 

"Over?" 

"  Yes,  across  the  Rapidan.  I  did  not  go  from  ^Nfartinsburg  to 
Richmond  with  Colonel  Mohun.  I  thought  I  would  come  down 
and  see  what  was  going  on  in  Culpeper.  Accordingly  I  crossed 
the  Blue  Ridge  at  Ashby's  Gap,  reached  Culpeper — and  last 
night  crossed  the  Rapidan  opposite  Chancellorsville,  where  I  sa^ 
Colonel  Mohun,  before  whom  I  was  carried  as  a  spy." 

"  You  bring  news,  then  ?"  said  Stuart,  with  sudden  earnestness 
and  attention. 

"  Important  news,  general.  The  Federal  army  is  about  to 
move." 

"  To  cross  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Where — when! — what  force!" 

"  One  hundred  and  forty  thousand  of  all  arms.  I  answer  the 
last  question  first. "^ 

"  And  — " 


GEM.    GRANT'S    PEIVATE    ORDER 


15' 


*'The  army  will  advance  in  two  columns.  The  right— of 
Sedgwick's  and  Warren's  corps— will  cross  at  Germanna  Ford. 
The  left,  consisting  of  Hancock's  corps,  at  Ely's  ford  below' 
They  have  pontoon  and  bridge  trains— and  the  movement  will 
commence  at  midnight  on  the  third— two  days  from  now." 

Stuart  knit  his  brows,  and  buried  his  hand  in  his  beard.     Sud 
denly  he  called  out  to  the  orderly  :— 

"  Have  two  horses  saddled  in  five  minutes!"  And  seizing  his 
hat,  he  said  : — 

"  Get  ready  to  ride  to  General  Lee's  head-quarters  with  me 
Nighthawk!"  ' 

The  clerical  looking  emissary  put  on  his  respectable  black 
hat. 

"You  are  certain  of  this  intelligence?"  Stuart  said,  turning 
with  a  piercing  glance  to  him. 

"  Quite  certain,  general,"  said  Mr.  Nighthawk,  serenely. 

"  You  were  in  the  camps  ?" 

*'  In  all,  I  believe,  and  at  army  head-quarters." 

"  You  overheard  your  intelligence  ?" 

"No,  I  captured  it,  general." 

"How?" 

"A  courier  was  sent  in  haste— I  saw  the  commander-in-chief 
speaking  to  him.  I  followed— came  up  with  him  in  a  hollow  of 
the  woods— and  was  compelled  to  blow  his  brains  out,  as  he  would 
not  surrender.  I  then  searched  his  body,  and  found  what  I 
wanted.     There  it  is,  general." 

And  Nighthawk  drew  forth  a  paper. 

"  What  is  it?"  exclaimed  Stuart. 
^  "Grant's  confidential  order  to  his  corps  commanders,  general, 
directing  the  movements  of  his  army." 

Stuart  seized  it,  read  it  hastily,  and  uttered  an  exclamation  of 
satisfaction.  Ten  minutes  afterward  he  was  going  at  full  speed, 
accompanied  by  Nighthawk,  toward  General  Lee's  head- 
quarters. 


158  MOHUN. 


XXL 

"  YIRGIXIA  EXPECTS  EVERY  MAN  TO  DO  HIS  DUTY  I" 

Soon  after  daylight,  on  the  next  morning,  Stuart  was  up,  and 
writing  busily  at  liis  desk. 

He  was  perfectly  cool,  as  always,  and  his  manner  when  I  went 
in  exhibited  no  sort  of  flurry.  But  the  couriers  going  and  com- 
ing with  dispatches  indicated  clearly  that  "  something  was  in  the 
wind." 

I  was  seated  by  the  fireplace  when  Stuart  finished  a  dispatch 
and  came  toward  me.  The  next  moment  he  threw  himself  upon 
a  chair,  leaned  his  head  upon  ray  shoulder,  and  began  to  caress 
one  of  his  dogs,  who  leaped  into  his  lap. 

"  Well,  Surry,  old  fellow,  we  are  going  to  get  into  the  saddle. 
Look  out  for  your  head  !" 

""  Excellent  advice,"  I  replied.   "  I  recommend  you  to  follow  it. 

"You  think  I  expose  myself,  do  you?" 

"In  the  most  reckless  manner." 

"For  instance — come,  an  instance!"  he  laughed. 

I  saw  Stuart  was  talking  to  rest  himself. 

"  Well,  at  Mine  Run,  when  you  rode  up  to  that  fence 
lined  with  sharp-shooters — and  they  fired  on  us  at  ten  paces, 
nearly." 

"  In  fact,  you  might  have  shot  a  marble- at  them — but  I  am  not 
afraid  of  any  ball  aimed  at  me."* 

"  Then  you  believe  in  chance^  general  ?" 

"  There  is  no  chance,  Surry,"  he  said,  gravely.  "  God  rules  over 
all  things,  and  not  a  sparrow,  we  are  told,  can  fall  without  his 
permission.     How  can  I,  or  you,  then  ?" 

"  You  are  right,  general,  and  I  have  always  been  convinced  of 
your  religious  faith." 

"I  believe  in  God  and  our  Saviour,  with  all  my  heart,"  said 
Stuart,  solemnly.     "I  may  not  show  it,  but  I  feel  deeply." 

"  On  the  contrarv,  vou  show  it — to  me  at  least — even  in  trifles," 

*  His  words. 


EVERY    MA^    TO    DO    HIS    DUTY.        159 

I  said,  moved  by  his  earnestness.  "  Do  you  remember  the  other 
day,  when  an  officer  uttered  a  sneer  at  the  expense  of  a  friend  of 
his  who  had  turned  preacher  ?  You  replied  that  the  calling  of  a 
minister  was  the  noblest  in  which  any  human  being  could  en- 
gage * — and  I  regretted  at  that  moment,  that  the  people  who  laugh 
at  you,  and  charge  you  with  vicious  things,  could  not  hear  you." 

Stuart  shook  his  head,  smiling  with  a  sadness  on  his  lips  which 
I  had  never  seen  before. 

"  They  would  not  believe  me,  my  dear  Surry ;  not  one  would 
give  me  credit  for  a  good  sentiment  or  a  pure  principle  !  Am  I 
not  a  drunkard,  because  my  face  is  burned  red  by  the  sun  and  the 
wind  ?  And  yet  I  never  touched  spirit  in  all  my  life !  I  do  not 
know  the  taste  of  it!  *  Am  I  not  given  to  women?  And  yet, 
God  knows  I  am  innocent, — that  I  recoil  in  disgust  from  the 
very  thought!  Am  I  not  frivolous,  trifling, — laughing  at  all 
things,  reverencing  nothing?  And  yet  my  laughter  is  only  from 
high  health  and  animal  spirits.  I  am  young  and  robust ;  it  is 
natural  to  me  to  laugh,  as  it  is  to  be  pleased  with  bright  faces 
and  happy  voices,  with  colors,  and  music,  and  approbation.  I 
am  not  as  religious  as  I  ought  to  be,  and  wish,  with  all  my  heart, 
I  had  the  deep  and  devout  piety  of  that  good  man  and  great 
military  genius,*  Stonewall  Jackson.  I  can  lay  no  claim  to  it, 
you  see,  Surry ;  I  am  only  a  rough  soldier,  at  my  hard  work.  I 
am  terribly  busy,  and  my  command  takes  every  energy  I  possess  ; 
but  I  find  time  to  read  my  Bible  and  to  pray.  I  pray  for  pardon 
and  forgiveness,  and  try  to  do  my  duty,  and  leave  the  rest  to 
God.  If  God  calls  me — and  He  may  call  me  very  soon — I  hope  I 
will  be  ready,  and  be  able  to  say,  '  Thy  will  be  done."  I  expect 
to  be  killed  in  this  war;* — Heaven  knows,  I  would  have  my  right 
Land  chopped  ofi"  at  the  wrist  to  stop  it !  *— but  I  do  not  shrink 
from  the  ordeal  before  me,  and  I  am  ready  to  lay  down  my  life 
for  my  country."  * 

Stuart  paused,  and  leaned  his  arm  upon  the  rude  shelf  above 
the  fireplace,  passing  his  hand  over  his  forehead,  as  was  habitual 
with  him. 

"A  hard  campaign  is  coming,  Surry,"  he  said,  at  length, 
more  cheerfully ;  "  I  intend  to  do  my  duty  in  it,  and  deserve  the 

*  His  words. 


160  MOHUN. 

good  opinion  of  the  •world,  if  I  do  not  secure  it.  I  have  perilled 
mv  life  manv  times,  and  shall  not  shrink  from  it  in  future.  I  am 
a  Virginian,  and  I  intend  to  live  or  die  for  Old  Virginia!  The 
tug  is  coming;  the  enemy  are  about  to  come  over  and  'try  again  !' 
But  we  will  meet  them,  and  fight  them  like  men,  Surry!  Our 
army  is  small,  but  with  strong  hands  and  brave  hearts  much  can 
be  done.  We  must  be  up  and  doing,  and  do  our  duty  to  the 
handle.*  For  myself,  I  am  going  to  fight  whatever  is  before  me, 
— to  win  victory,  with  God's  blessing,  or  die  trying!  Once  more, 
Surry,  remember  that  we  are  fighting  for  our  old  mother,  and 
that  Virginia  expects  every  man  to  do  his  duty!" 

His  face  glowed  as  he  spoke ;  in  his  dazzling  blue  eyes  burned 
the  fire  of  an  unconquerable  resolution,  a  courage  that  nothing 
seemed  able  to  crush. 

Years  have  passed  since  then,  a  thousand  scenes  have  swept 
before  me  ;  but  still  I  see  the  stalwart  cavalier,  with  his  proud 
forehead  raised,  and  hear  his  sonorous  voice  exclaim  : — 

"  Virginia  expects  every  man  to  do  his  duty!"  * 


XXII. 

WHAT   OCCURRED  AT  WARRENTOX. 

This  conversation  took  place  at  an  early  hour  of  the  morning. 
Two  hours  afterward,  I  was  in  the  saddle  and  riding  toward 
Chancellorsville,  with  the  double  object  of  inspecting  the  pickets 
and  taking  Mohun  his  commission. 

I  have  described  in  my  former  Memoirs  that  melancholy  country 
of  the  Wilderness;  its  unending  thickets;  its  roads,  narrow  and 
deserted,  which  seem  to  wind  on  forever  ;  the  desolate  fields, 
here  and  there  covered  with  stunted  bushes;  the  owls  flapping 
their  dusky  wings  ;  the  whip-poor-will,  crying  in  the  jungle  ;  and 
the  moccasin  gliding  stealthily  amid  the  ooze,  covered  with  its 
green  scum. 

*  His  words. 


WHAT    OCCURRED    AT    WARRENTON.  IGI 

Strange  and  sombre  country!  lugubrious  shades  where  death 
lurked!  Already  two  great  armies  had  clatched  therein  May, 
1863.  Now,  in  May,  'B'i,  the  tangled  thicket  was  again  to  thun- 
der; men  were  going  to  grapple  here  in  a  mad  wrestle  even 
more  desperate  than  the  former! 

Two  roads  stretch  from  Orange  Court-House  to  Chancellors- 
ville — the  old  turnpike,  and  the  plank  road — running  through 
Yerdiersville. 

I  took  the  latter,  followed  the  interminable  wooden  pathway 
through  the  thicket,  and  toward  evening  came  to  the  point  where 
the  Ely's  Ford  road  comes  in  near  Chancellorsville.  Here,  sur- 
rounded by  the  rotting  weapons,  bones  and  skulls  of  the  gre.-it 
battle  already  fought,  I  found  Mohun  ready  for  the  battle  that 
was  coming. 

He  commanded  the  regiment  on  picket  opposite  Ely's  Ford ; 
and  was  pointed  out  to  me  at  three  hundred  yards  from  an  old 
torn  down  house  which  still,  remains  there,  I  fancy. 

Mohun  had  dismounted,  and,  leaning  against  the  trunk  of  a  tree, 
was  smoking  a  cigar.  He  was  much  thinner  and  paler  than  when 
I  had  last  seen  him ;  but  his  eye  was  brilliant  and  piercing,  his 
carriage  erect  and  proud.  In  his  fine  new  uniform,  replacing 
that  left  at  Fort  Delaware,  and  his  brown  hat,  decorated  with  a 
black  feather,  he  was  the  model  of  a  cavalier,  ready  at  a  mo- 
ment's warning  to  meet  the  enemy. 

We  exchanged  a  close  grasp  of  the  hand.  Something  in  this 
man  had  attracted  me,  and  from  acquaintances  we  Had  become 
friends,  though  Mohun  had  never  given  me  his  confidence. 

I  informed  him  of  Nighthawk's  visit  and  narrative,  congratu- 
lated him  on  his  escape,  and  then  presented  him  with  his  appoint- 
ment to  the  grade  of  brigadier-general. 

''Hurrah  for  Stuart!  He  is  a  man  to  count  on!"  exclaimed 
Mohun,  "  and  here  inclosed  is  the  order  for  me  to  take  command 
of  four  regiments !" 

"  I  congratulate  you,  Mohnn." 

"I hope  to  do  good  work  with  them,  my  dear  Surry — and  I 
think  they  are  just  in  time." 

With  w^hich  words  Mohun  put  the  paper  in  his  pocket. 

"  You  know  the  latest  intelligence  ?"  he  said. 


1(^2  MOHUN. 

"  Yes ;  but  do  not  let  us  talk  of  it.  Tell  me  something  about 
yourself — but  first  listen  to  a  little  narrative  from  me." 

And  T  described  the  visit  which  I  had  made  with  Tom  Herbert 
to  the  house  near  Buckland ;  the  scene  between  Darke  and  his 
companion  ;  and,  to  keep  back  nothing,  repeated  the  substance 
of  their  conversation. 

Mohun  knit  his  brows  ;  then  burst  into  a  laugh. 

""Well!"  he  said,  "so  those  two  amiable  characters  are  still 
bent  on  making  mince-meat  of  me,  are  they  ?  Did  you  ever 
hear  any  thing  like  it  ?  They  are  perfect  tigers,  thirsting  for 
blood!" 

"Nothing  more  nor  less,"  I  said  ;  "the  whole  thing  is  like  a 
romance." 

"Is  it  not?" 

"  A  perfect  labyrinth." 

"  The  very  word  !" 

"  And  I  have  not  a  trace  of  a  kev." 

Mohun  looked  at  me  for  some  moments  in  silence.  He  was 
evidently  hesitating;  and  letting  his  eyes  fall,  played  with  the 
hilt  of  his  sword. 

Then  he  suddenly  looked  up. 

"I  have  a  confidence  to  make  you,  Surry,"  he  said,  "and 
would  like  to  make  it  this  very  day.  But  I  cannot.  You  have 
no  doubt  divined  that  Colonel  Darke  is  my  bitter  enemy — that 
his  companion  is  no  less,  even  more,  bitter — and  some  day  I  will 
tell  you  what  all  that  means.  My  life  has  been  a  strange  one. 
As  was  said  of  Randolph  of  Roanoke's,  '  the  fictions  of  romance 
cannot  surpass  it."  These  two  persons  alluded  to  it — I  under- 
stand more  than  you  possibly  can — but  I  do  not  understand  the 
allusions  made  to  General  Davenant.  I  am  not  the  suitor  of  his 
daughter — or  of  any  one.  I  am  not  in  love — I  do  not  intend  to 
be — to  be  frank  with  you,  friend,  I  have  little  confidence  in 
women — and  you  no  doubt  comprehend  that  this  strange  one 
whom  you  have  thrice  met,  on  the  Rappahannock,  in  Pennsylva- 
nia, and  near  Buckland,  is  the  cause." 

"  She  seems  to  be  a  perfect  viper." 

"Is  she  not?  You  would  say  so,  more  than  ever,  if  I  told  you 
what  took  place  at  Warrenton." 


WHAT    OCCURRED    AT    WARRENTON.  163 

And  again  Mohun's  brows  were  knit  together.  Then  his  bit- 
ter expression  changed  to  laughter. 

"  What  took  place  at  Warrenton  !"  I  said,  looking  at  him  in- 
tently. 

"  Exactly,  mj  dear  friend — it  was  a  real  comedy.  Only  a 
poignard  played  a  prominent  part  in  the  affair,  and  you  know 
poignards  belong  exclusively  to  tragedy." 

Mohun  uttered  these  words  with  his  old  reckless  satire.  A 
sort  of  grim  and  biting  humor  was  plain  in  his  accents. 

"  A  poniard — a  tragedy — tell  me  about  it,  Mohun,"  I  said. 

He  hesitated  a  moment.  "  Well,  I  will  do  so,"  he  said,  at 
length.  "It  will  amuse  you,  my  guest,  while  dinner  is  getting 
ready." 

"  I  am  listening." 

"  Well,  to  go  back.  You  remember  my  fight  with  Colonel 
Darke  near  Buckland  ?" 

"  Certainly;  and  I  was  sure  that  you  had  killed  each  other." 

"  You  were  mistaken.  He  is  not  dead,  and  you  see  I  am  not. 
He  was  wounded  in  the  throat,  but  my  sabre  missed  the  artery, 
and  he  was  taken  to  a  house  near  at  hand,  and  thence  to  hospital, 
where  he  recovered.  My  own  wound  was  a  bullet  through  the 
chest ;  and  this  gave  me  so  much  agony  that  I  could  not  be  carried 
in  my  ambulance  farther  than  Warrenton,  where  I  was  left  with 
some  friends  who  took  good  care  of  me.  Meanwhile,  General  Meade 
had  again  advanced  and  occupied  the  place — I  was  discovered, 
and  removed  as  soon  as  possible  to  the  Federal  hospital,  where 
they  could  have  me  under  guard.  Faith  !  they  are  smart  people 
— our  friends  the  Yankees  !  They  are  convinced  that  '  every  little 
helps,'  and  they  had  no  idea  of  allowing  that  tremendous  South- 
ern paladin.  Colonel  Mohun,  to  escape  !  So  I  was  sent  to  hospital. 
The  removal  caused  a  return  of  fever — I  was  within  an  inch  of  the 
grave — and  this  brings  me  to  the  circumstance  that  I  wish  to 
relate  for  your  amusement. 

"  For  some  days  after  my  removal  to  the  Federal  hospital,  I 
was  delirious,  but  am  now  convinced  that  much  which  I  then 
took  for  the  wanderings  of  a  fevered  brain,  was  real. 

"I  used  to  lie  awake  a  great  deal,  and  one  gloomy  night  I  saw. 
or  dreamed  I  saw,  as  I  then  supposed,  that  woman  entev  my  ward, 


164:  MOHUIT. 

in  company  with  the  surgeon.  She  bent  over  me,  glared  npon 
me  with  those  dark  eves,  which  you  no  doubt  remember,  and  then 
drawing  back  said  to  the  surgeon  : — 

"  '  Will  he  live  V  " 

"  '  Impossible  to  say,  madam,'  was  the  reply.  '  The  ball  passed 
through  his  breast,  and  although  these  wounds  are  almost  always 
mortal,  men  do  now  and  then  recover  from  them.' 

"'Will  this  one?' 

"  '  I  cannot  tell  you.  madam,  his  constitution  seems  powerfal.' 

"I  saw  her  turn  as  he  spoke,  and  fix  those  glaring  eyes  on  me 
again.  Thev  were  enough  to  burn  a  hole  in  vou,  Surrv,  and  made 
me  feel  for  some  weapon.  But  there  was  none — and  the  scene 
here  terminated — both  retired.  The  next  night,  however,  it  was  re- 
newed. This  time  the  surgeon  felt  my  pulse,  touched  my  forehead, 
placed  his  ear  to  my  breast  to  listen  to  the  action  of  the  heart,  and 
rising  up  said,  in  reply  to  madam's  earqest  glance  of  inquiry: — 

"'Yes,  I  am  sure  he  will  live.  You  can  give  yourself  no  fur- 
ther anxiety  about  your  cousin,  madam.' 

"  Her  cousin  f  That  was  not  bad,  yon  see.  She  had  gained 
access,  as  I  ascertained  from  some  words  of  their  conversation,  by 
representing  herself  as  my  cousin.  I  was  a  member  of  her  family 
who  had  'gone  astray'  and  embraced  the  cause  of  the  rebellion, 
but  was  still  dear  to  her!  Womanlv  heart! 'clin£]ring  affection! 
not  even  the  sin  of  the  prodigal  cousin  could  sever  the  tender 
chord  of  her  love  !  I  had  wandered  from  the  right  path — fed  on 
husks  with  the  Confederate  swine;  but  I  was  wounded — had 
come  back  ;  should  the  fatted  calf  remain  unbutchered,  -and  the 
loving  welcome  be  withheld? 

"  '  You  can  give  yourself  no  further  uneasiness  ahout  your 
cousin^  madam  P 

"  Such  was  the  assurance  of  the  surgeon,  and  he  turned  away 
to  other  patients,  of  whom  there  were,  however,  very  few  in 
the  hospital,  and  none  near  me.  As  he  turned  his  back,  madam 
looked  at  me.  Her  face  was  really  diabolical,  and  I  thouglit  at 
the  moment  that  she  was  a  nicrhtmare — that  I  dreamed  her! 
Closing  my  eyes  to  shut  out  the  vision,  I  kept  them  thus  shut  for 
some  moments.     When  I  reopened  them  she  was  gone. 

"  Well,  the  surgeon's  predictions  did  not  seem  likely  to  be  veri- 


WHAT    OCCUEPwED    AT    ^ARP.EXTOX.  165 

fied.  Mr  fever  retiirnecl.  Thronghont  the  succeeding  day  I 
turned  and  tossed  on  ray  couch ;  as  night  came,  I  had  some  hide- 
ous dreams.  A  storm  was  raging  without,  and  the  rain  falling  in 
torrents.  The  building  trembl-ed,  the  windows  rattled — it  was  a 
night  of  nights  for  some  deviPs  work ;  and  I  remember  laughing 
in  my  fever,  and  muttering,  '  Now  is  the  time  for  delirium,  bad 
dreams,  and  ugly  shapes,  to  flock  around  me!' 

"  I  fell  into  a  doze  at  last,  and  had,  as  I  thought,  a  decidedly 
bad  dream — for  I  felt  certain  that  I  was  dreaming,  and  that  what 
I  witnessed  was  the. sport  of  my  fancy.  What  I  saw,  or  seemed  to 
see,  was  this:  the  door  opened  slowly — a  head  was  thrust  in,  and 
remained  motionless  for  an  instant;  then  the  head  moved,  a  body 
followed;  madam,  the  lady  of  the  dark  eyes,  glided  stealthily 
toward  my  cot.  It  was  enough  to  make  one  shudder,  Surry, 
to  have  seen  the  stealthy  movement  of  that  phantom.  I  gazed  at 
it  through  my  half-closed  eyelids — saw  the  raidnight  eyes  burning 
in  the  white  face  half  covered  by  a  shawl  thrown  over  the  head — 
and,  under  that  covering,  the  right  hand  of  the  phantom  grasped 
something  which  I  could  not  make  out. 

"In  three  quick  steps  it  was  beside  me.  I  say  it,  for  the  figure 
resembled  that  of  a  ghost,  or  some  horrible  thing.  From  the  eyes 
two  flames  seemed  to  dart,  the  lips  opened,  and  I  heard,  in  a  low 
mutter : — 

"  'Ah  !  he  is  going  to  recover,  then !' 

"As  the  words  left  the  phantom's  lips,  it  reached  my  cot  at  a 
bound ;  something  gleamed  aloft,  and  I  started  back  only  in  time 
to  avoid  the  sharp  point  of  a  poniard,  which  grazed  ray  head  and 
nearly  buried  itself  in  the  pillow  on  which  I  lay. 

"  Well,  I  started  up  and  endeavored  to  seize  my  assailant ;  but 
she  suddenly  broke  away  from  me,  still  clutching  her  weapon. 
Her  clothing  was  torn  from  her  person — she  recoiled  toward  the 
door — and  I  leaped  from  my  couch  to  rush  after  and  arrest  her. 
I  had  not  the  strength  to  do  so,  however.  I  had  scarcely  taken 
three  steps  when  I  began  to  stagger. 

"'Murderess!'  I  exclaimed,  extending  ray  arms  to  arrest  her 
flight. 

"  It  was  useless.  A  few  feet  further  I  reeled — my  head  seemed 
turning  round — and  again  shouting   'Murderess!'  I  fell  at  full 


166  mohu:n". 

length  on  the  floctr,   at   tlie   moment   when  the  woman   disap- 
peared. 

"  That  was  curious,  was  it  not?  It  would  have  been  a  tragical 
dream — it  was  more  tragical  in  being  no  dream  at  all,  but  a 
reality.  What  had  taken  place  was  simple,  and  easy  to  under- 
stand. That  woman  had  come  thither,  on  this  stormy  night,  to 
murder  me ;  and  she  had  very  nearly  succeeded.  Had  she  found 
me  asleep,  I  should  never  have  waked.  Fortunately,  I  was 
awake.  Some  noise  frightened  her,  and  she  disappeared.  A 
moment  afterward  one  of  the  nurses  came,  and  finally  the  sur- 
geon. 

"  "When  I  told  hira  what  had  taken  place,  he  laughed. 

"  *  Well,  colonel,  go  back  to  bed,'  he  said,  'such  dreams  retard 
your  recovery  more  than  every  thing  else.' 

"I  obeyed,  without  taking  the  trouble  to  contradict  him.  My 
breast  was  bleeding  again,  and  I  did  not  get  over  the  excitement 
for  some  days.  The  phantom  did  not  return.  I  slowly  recover- 
ed, and  was  taken  in  due  time  to  Fort  Delaware — the  rest  you 
know. 

'•I  forgot  to  tell  you  one  thing.  The  surgeon  almost  persuaded 
me  that  I  had  been  the  victim  of  nightmare.  Unfortunately, 
however,  for  the  theory  of  the  worthy,  I  found  a  deep  hole  in 
my  pillow,  where  the  poniard  had  entered. 

"  So  you  see  it  was  madam,  and  not  her  ghost,  who  had  done 
me  the  honor  of  a  \asit,  Surry." 


XXIII. 

THE    GRATE    OF    ACHMED. 

An  hour  afterward  I  had  dined  with  Mohnn  at  his  head-quar- 
ters, in  the  woods  ;  mounted  our  horses  ;  and  were  making  our 
way  toward  the  Rapidan  to  inspect  the  pickets. 

This  consumed  two  hours.     We  found  nothing  stirring.     As 


THE    GRAVE    OF    ACHMED.  167 

snnset  approached,  we  retraced  our  steps  toward  Chancellorsville. 
I  had  accepted  Mohun's  invitation  to  spend  the  night  with  hira. 

As  I  rode  on,  the  country  seemed  strangely  familiar.  All  at 
once  I  recognized  here  a  tree,  there  a  stump — we  were  passing 
over  the  road  which  I  had  followed  first  in  April,  1861,  and 
again  in  August,  1862,  when  I  came  so  unexpectedly  upon  Fen- 
wick,  and  heard  his  singular  revelation. 

We  had  been  speaking  of  Mordaunt,  to  whose  brigade  Mohun's 
regiment  belonged,  and  the  young  officer  had  grown  enthusiastic, 
extolling  Mordaunt  as  '  one  of  the  greatest  soldiers  of  the  army, 
under  whom  it  was  an  honor  to  serve.' 

""Well,"  I  said,  "there  is  a  spot  near  here  which  he  knows 
well,  and  where  a  strange  scene  passed  on  a  night  of  May, 
1863." 

"Ah  !  you  know  the  country,  then?"  said  Mohun. 

"Perfectly  well." 

"  What  are  you  looking  at  V 

"  That  hill  yonder,  shut  in  by  a  thicket.  There  is  a  house 
there." 

And  I  spurred  on,  followed  by  Mohun.  In  five  minutes  we 
reached  the  brush-fence  ;  our  horses  easily  cleared  it,  and  we 
rode  up  the  hill  toward  the  desolate-looking  mansion. 

I  surveyed  it  intently.  It  was  unchanged,  save  that  the  porch 
seemed  rotting  away,  and  the  window-shutters  about  to  fall — 
that  on  the  window  to  the  right  hung  by  a  single  hinge.  It  was 
the  one  through  which  I  had  looked  in  August,  1862.  There  was 
the  same  door  through  which  I  had  burst  in  upon  Fenwick  and 
his  companion. 

I  dismounted,  threw  my  bridle  over  a  stunted  shrub,  and  ap- 
proached the  house.     Suddenly  I  stopped. 

At  ten  paces  from  me,  in  a  little  group  of  cedars,  a  man  was 
kneeling  on  a  grave,  covered  with  tangled  grass.  At  the  rattle 
of  my  sabre  he  rose,  turned  round — it  was  Mordaunt. 

In  a  moment  we  had  exchanged  a  pressure  of  the  hand  ;  and 
then  turning  to  the  grave  : — 

"  That  is  the  last  resting-place  of  poor  Achmed,"  he  said ; 
adding,  in  his  deep,  grave  voice : — 

"  You  know  how  he  loved  me,  Surry." 


168  MOnUN. 

"And  liow  you  loved  Mm^  Mordannt.  I  can  understand  yonr 
presence  at  his  grave,  my  dear  friend. 

Mordaunt  sighed,  then  saluted  Mohun,  who  approached. 

"This  spot,"  he  said,  "is  well  known  to  Colonel  Surry  and 
myself,  Mohun." 

Then  turning  to  me,  he  added  : — 

"  I  found  a  melancholy  spectacle  awaiting  me  here." 

"  Other  than  Achmed's  grave?" 

"  Yes  ;  come,  and  I  will  show  you." 

And  he  led  the  way  into  the  house.  As  I  entered  the  squalid 
and  miserable  mansion,  the  siglit  which  greeted  me  made  me 
recoil. 

On  a  wretched  bed  lay  the  corpse  of  a  woman  ;  and  at  a  glance, 
I  recognized  the  woman  Parkins,  who  had  played  so  tragic  a 
part  in  the  history  of  Mordaunt.  The  face  was  hideously  attenu- 
ated ;  the  eyes  were  open  and  staring  ;  the  lower  jaw  had  fallen. 
In  the  rigid  and  bony  hand  was  a  dry  and  musty  crust  of  bread. 

"  She  must  have  starved  to  death  here,"  said  Mordaunt,  gazing 
at  the  corpse.  And,  approaching  it,  he  took  the  crust  from  the 
fingers.     As  he  did  so,  the  teeth  seemed  grinning  at  him. 

"Poor  creature!"  he  said;  "this  crust  was  probably  all  that 
remained  to  her  of  the  price  of  her  many  crimes!  I  pardon  her» 
and  will  have  her  buried  !" 

As  Mordaunt  turned  away,  I  saw  him  look  at  the  floor. 

"  There  is  Achmed's  blood,"  he  said,  pointing  to  a  stain  on  the 
plank  ;  "  and  the  other  is  the  blood  of  Fenwick,  who  was  buried 
near  his  victim." 

"I  remember,"  I  murmured.  And  letting  my  chin  fall  upon 
my  breast,  I  returned  in  thought  to  the  strange  scene  which  the 
spot  recalled  so  vividly. 

"  There  is  but  one  other  actor  in  that  drama  of  whom  I  know 
nothing,  Mordaunt!" 

"  You  mean " 

"  Violet  Grafton." 

Mordaunt  raised  his  head  quickly.  His  eyes  glowed  with  a 
serene  sweetness. 

"  She  is  my  wife,"  he  said  ;  "  the  joy  and  sunlight  of  my  life  ! 
I  no  longer  read  Les  Miserdbles^  and  sneer  at  my  species — I  no 


A    NIGHT    BIRD.  169 

longer  scowl,  Surry,  and  try  to  rush  against  the  bullet  that  is  to 
end  me.  God  has  rescued  a  lost  life  in  sending  me  one  of  his 
angels  ;  and  it  was  she  who  made  me  promise  to  come  hither  and 
pray  on  the  grave  of  our  dear  Achraed  !" 

Mordaunt  turned  toward  the  door  as  he  spoke,  and  inviting  me 
to  ride  with  him,  left  the  mansion.  As  I  had  agreed  to  stay  with 
Mohun,  I  was  obliged  to  decline. 

Five  minutes  afterward  he  had  mounted,  and  with  a  salute, 
the  tall  form  disappeared  in  the  forest. 

'We  set  out  in  turn,  and  were  soon  at  Mohun 's  bivouac. 


XXIV. 

A   NIGHT    BIRD. 


I  SHAEED  Mohun's  blankets,  and  was  waked  by  the  sun  shin- 
ing in  ray  face. 

My  companion  had  disappeared,  but  I  had  scarcely  risen  when 
he  was  seen  approaching  at  full  gallop. 

Throwing  himself  from  his  horse,  he  grasped  ray  hand,  his  face 
beaming. 

''All  right,  Surry!"  he  exclaimed;  "  I  have  seen  Mordaunt; 
my  command  is  all  arranged;  I  have  four  superb  regiments;  and 
they  are  already  in  the  saddle.'' 

''  I  congratulate  you,  my  dear  general !  Make  good  use  of 
them — and  I  think  you  are  going  to  have  the  opportunity  at 
once." 

"  You  are  right — the  enemy's  cavalry  are  drawn  up  on  the 
north  bank  of  the  river." 

"  Any  firing  in  front  ?" 

"  They  are  feeling  at  all  the  fords." 

"  Are  you  going  there  ?" 

''  At  once." 

"  I  will  go  with  you." 

And  I  mounted  my  horse  which  stood  saddled  near  by. 


170  MOHUN. 

Swallowing  some  mouthfuls  of  bread  and  beef  as  we  rode  on, 
we  soon  reached  Mohun's  command.  It  consisted  of  four  regi- 
ments, drawn  up  in  column,  ready  to  move — and  at  sight  of  the 
voung  sahreur,  the  men  raised  a  shout. 

Mohun  saluted  with  drawn  sabre,  and  galloped  to  the  front. 

A  moment  afterward  the  bugle  sounded,  and  the  column  ad- 
vanced toward  the  Rapidan,  within  a  mile  of  which  it  halted — 
Mohun  and  myself  riding  forward  to  reconnoitre  at  Germanna 
Ford,  directly  in  our  front. 

The  pickets  were  engaged,  firing  at  each  other  across  the  river. 
On  the  northern  bank  were  seen  long  columns  of  Federal  cavalry, 
drawn  up  as  though  about  to  cross. 

I  rode  with  Mohun  to  the  summit  of  the  lofty  hill  near  the 
ford,  and  here,  seated  on  his  horse  beneath  a  tree,  we  found 
Mordaunt.  It  was  h;ird  to  realize  that,  on  the  evening  before,  I 
had  seen  this  stern  and  martial  figure,  kneeling  in  prayer  upon  a 
grave — had  heard  the  brief  deep  voice  grow  musical  when  he 
spoke  of  his  wife.  But  habit  is  every  thing.  On  the  field,  Mor- 
daunt was  the  soldier,  and  nothing  but  the  soldier. 

"  You  see,"  he  said,  "  the  game  is  about  to  open,"  pointing  to 
the  Federal  cavalry.  "  You  remember  this  spot,  and  that  hill 
yonder,  I  think." 

''Yes,"  I  replied,  "and  your  charge  there' when  we  captured 
their  artillery  in  August,  '62." 

As  he  spoke,  a  dull  firing,  which  we  had  heard  for  some  mo- 
ments from  the  direction  of  Ely's  Ford,  grew  more  rapid.  Five 
minutes  afterward,  an  officer  was  seen  approaching  from  the 
Bide  of  the  firing,  at  full  speed. 

"When  he  was  within  a  hundred  yards,  I  recognized  Harry 
Mordaunt.  He  was  unchanged  ;  his  eyes  still  sparkled,  his  plume 
floated,  his  lips  were  smiling. 

He  greeted  me  warmly,  and  then  turned  to  General  Mordaunt, 
and  reported  the  enemy  attempting  to  cross  at  Ely's. 

"  I  will  go,  then  ;  will  you  ride  with  me,  Surry?     Keep  a  good 
look  out  here,  Mohun." 
.  I  accepted  Mordaunt's  invitation,  and  in  a  moment  we  were 
galloping,  accompanied  by  Harry,  toward  Ely's. 

"Glad  to  see  you  again,  colonel!"  exclaimed  the  young  man, 


A    NIGHT    BIRD.  171 

in  Ins  gay  voice,  "  you  remind  me  of  old  times,  and  a  young  lady 
•was  speaking  of  you  lately." 

"A  certain  Miss  Fitzhugh,  I  -will  wager  !" 

*' There's  no  such  person,  colonel." 

"Ah!  you  are  married!" 

"Last  spring;  but  I  might  as  well  be  single!  That's  the 
worst  of  this  foolishness, — I  wish  they  would  stop  it !  I  don't 
mind  hard  tack,  or  fighting,  or  sleeping  in  the  rain  ;  what  I  do 
mind  is  never  being  able  to  go  home  !  I  wish  old  Grant  would 
go  hoYne  and  see  his  wife,  and  let  me  go  and  see  mine  /  We 
could  then  come  back,  and  blaze  away  at  each  other  with  some 
satisfaction!" 

Harry  was  chattering  all  the  way,  and  I  encouraged  him  to 
talk  ;  his  gay  voice  was  delightful.  "We  talked  of  a  thousand 
things,  but  they  interested  me  more  than  they  would  interest  the 
reader,  and  I  pass  on  to  matters  more  important. 

Pushing  rapidly  toward  Ely's,  we  soon  arrived,  and  found  the 
enemy  making  a  heavy  demonstration  there.  It  lasted  through- 
out the  day,  and  I  remained  to  witness  the  result.  At  sunset, 
however,  the  firing  stopped,  and,  declining  Mordaunt's  invitation 
to  share  the  blankets  of  his  bivouac,  I  set  out  on  my  way  back 
to  Orange. 

Night  came  almost  before  I  was  aware  of  it,  and  found  me 
following  the  Brock  road  to  get  on  the  Orange  plank  road. 

Do  you  know  the  Brock  road,  reader?  and  have  you  ever  rid- 
den over  it  on  a  lowering  night  ?  If  so,  you  have  experienced  a 
peculiar  sensation.  It  is  impossible  to  imagine  any  thing  more 
lugubrious  than  these  strange  thickets.  In  their  depths  the  owl 
hoots,  and  the  whippoorwill  cries ;  the  stunted  trees,  with  their 
gnarled  branches,  are  like  fiends  reaching  out  spectral  arms  to 
seize  the  wayfarer  by  the  hair.  Desolation  reigns  there,  and  you 
unconsciously  place  your  hand  on  your  pistol  as  you  ride  along, 
to  be  ready  for  some  mysterious  and  unseen  enemy. 

At  least,  I  did  so  on  that  night.  I  had  now  penetrated  some 
distance,  and  had  come  near  the  lonely  house  where  so  many 
singular  events  had  occurred. 

I  turned  my  head  and  glanced  over  my  shoulder,  when,  to  my 
surprise,  I  saw  a  light  glimmering  through  the  window.     What 


172  .      MOHUN. 

was  its  origin  ?  The  house  was  certainly  uninhabited,  even  by 
the  dead — for  Mordaont  had  informed  me  that  a  detail  had,  that 
morning,  buried  the  corpse. 

There  was  but  one  means  of  solving  the  mystery,  and  I  leaped 
the  fence,  riding  straight  toward  the  house  ;  soon  reaching  it,  I 
dismounted  and  threw  open  the  door. 

"What  should  greet  my  eyes,  but  the  respectable  figure  of  Mr. 
Kighthawk,  seated  before  a  cheerful  blaze,  and  calmly  smoking 
his  pipe  I 


XXV. 

THE   APPOIXT:!krEXT. 

As  I  entered,  Mr.  Nighthawk  rose  politely,  without  exhibiting 
the  least  mark  of  astonishment. 

"Good  evening,  colonel,"  he  said,  smiling,  "I  am  glad  to  see 
you." 

"  And  I,  never  more  surprised  to  see  any  one  than  you,  here, 
Islghthawk!" 

''  Why  so,  colonel  ?" 

I  could  not  help  laughing  at  his  air  of  mild  inquiry. 

"Did  I  not  leave  you  at  our  head-quarters?" 

"That  was  two  days  ago,  colonel." 

"  And  this  is  your  residence,  perhaps  ?" 

"  I  have  no  residence,  colonel ;  but  am  here,  temporarily,  on  a 
little  matter  of  business." 

"Ah!  a  matter  of  business!" 

"I  think  it  might  be  called  so,  colonel." 

"  Which  it  would  be  indiscreet  to  reveal  to  me,  however.  That 
is  a  pity,  for  I  am  terribly  curious,  my  dear  Nighthawk!" 

Nighthawk  looked  at  me  benignly,  with  a  philanthropic  smile. 

"I  have  not  the  least  objection  to  informing  you,  colonel.  You 
are  a  gentleman  of  discretion,  and  have  another  claim  on  my 
respect." 

"What  is  that?" 


THE    APPOINTMENT.  173 

"  You  are  a  friend  of  Colonel  Mohun's." 
"  A  very  warm  one." 

"  Then  you  can  command  me ;  and  I  will  tell  yon  at  once  that 
I  am  awaiting  the  advance  of  General  Grant." 
"Ah  !     Now  I  begin  to  understand." 

''I  was  sure  you  would  at  the  first  word  I  uttered,  colonel. 
General  Grant  will  cross  the  Rapidan  to-night — by  to-morrow 
evening  his  whole  force  will  probably  be  over — and  I  expect  to 
procure  some  important  information  before  I  return  to  General 
Stuart.  To  you  I  am  Mr.  Nighthawk,  an  humble  friend  of  the 
cause,  employed  in  secret  business, — to  General  Grant  I  shall  be 
an  honest  farmer,  of  Union  opinions,  who  has  suffered  from  the 
depredations  of  his  troops,  and  goes  to  head-quarters  for  redress. 
You  see  they  have  already  stripped  me  of  every  thing,"  continued 
Mr.  Nighthawk,  waving  his  arm  and  smiling;  "not  a  cow,  a  hog, 
a  mule,  or  a  mouthful  of  food  has  been  left  me.  They  have  de- 
stroyed the  very  furniture  of  my  modest  dwelling,  and  I  am  cast, 
a  mere  pauper,  on  the  cold  charities  of  the  world!" 

Mr.  Nighthawk  had  ceased  smiling,  and  looked  grave ;  while 
it  was  I  who  burst  into  laughter.  His  eyes  were  raised  toward 
heaven,  with  an  expression  of  meek  resignation  ;  he  spread  out 
both  hands  with  the  eloquence  of  Mr.  Pecksniff;  and  presented 
the  appearance  of  a  virtuous  citizen  accepting  meekly  the  most 
trying  misfortunes. 

When  I  had  ceased  laughing,  I  said  : — 

*'  I  congratulate  you  on  your  histrionic  abilities,  Nighthawk. 
They  deserve  to  be  crowned  with  success.  But  how  did  vou  dis- 
cover  this  house?" 

"  I  was  acquainted  with  its  former  owner,  Mrs.  Parkins.  She  was 
a  sister  of  a  friend  of  mine,  whom  I  think  you  have  seen,  colonel." 

"  What  friend  ?" 

"  His  name  is  Swartz,  colonel." 

"  Not  the  Federal  spy  ?" 

"  The  same,  colonel." 

"  Whom  we  saw  last  in  the  house  between  Carlisle  and  Gettys- 
burg?" 

"I  saw  him  the  other  day,"  returned  Mr.  Nighthawk,  smiling 
sweetly. 


174  MOnUN. 

"Is  it  possible!" 

"  Near  Ciilpeper  Court-Honse,  colonel.     And,  to  let  you  into  a 
little  secret,  I  expect  to  see  hira  to-night." 

I  looked  at  the  speaker  with  bewilderment. 

"That  man  will  be  here!" 

"  If  he  keeps  his  appointment,  colonel." 

"You  have  an  appointment?" 

"  Yes,  colonel." 

"  In  tliis  house  ?" 

"To-night." 

""Vrith  what  object,  in  heaven's  name!" 

Nighthawk  hesitated  for  some  moments  before  replying. 

"  The  fact  is,  colonel,"  he  said,  "  that  I  inadvertently  mentioned 
my  appointment  with  Swartz  without  reflecting  how  singular  it 
must  appear  to  you,  unless  I  gave  you  some  explanation.  But  I 
am  quite  at  my  ease  with  you — you  are  a  friend  of  Colonel 
Mohun's — and  I  will  explain  as  much  of  my  business  as  propriety 
will  permit.  To  be  brief,  I  am  anxious  to  procure  a  certain  doc- 
ument in  Swartz's  possession." 

"A  certain  document?"  I  said,  looking  intently  at  the  speaker. 

"  Exactly,  colonel," 

"^hich  Swartz  has?" 

"  Precisely,  colonel." 

"And  which  he  stole  from  the  papers  of  Colonel  Darke  on  the 
night  of  Mohun's  combat  with  Darke,  in  the  house  near  Car- 
lisle ?" 

Mr.  Nighthawk  looked  keenly  at  me,  in  turn. 

"Ah!  you  know  that!"  he  said,  quickly. 

"I  saw  him  steal  it,  through  the  window,  while  the  woman's 
back  was  turned." 

"I  am  deeply  indebted  to  you,  colonel,"  said  Mr.  Nighthawk, 
gravely,  "  for  informing  me  of  this  fact,  which,  I  assure  you,  is 
iinportsnt.  Swartz  swore  to  me  that  he  had  the  paper,  and  had 
procured  it  in  that  manner,  but  I  doubted  seriously  whether  he 
was  not  deceiving  me.  He  is  a  Tery  consummate  rascal,  knows 
the  value  of  that  document,  and  my  appointment  with  him  to- 
night is  with  an  eye  to  its  purchase  from  him." 
"Do  vou  tliink  he  will  come?" 


THE    APPOIXTMENT.  175 

"  I  think  so.     He  "W'ould  sell  his  soul  for  gold." 

"And  that  woman?  he  seems  to  be  her  friend," 

"He  would  sell  her  for  silver  /" 

After  utterin;r  which  hon  mot,,  Mr.  Xighthawk  smiled. 

This  man  puzzled  me  beyond  expVession.  His  stealthy  move- 
ments were  strange  enough — it  was  singular  to  meet  him  in  this 
lonely  house — but  more  singular  still  was  the  business  which  had 
brought  him.  What  was  that  paper?  Why  did  Nighthawk  wish 
to  secure  it  ?     I  gave  up  the  inquiry  in  despair. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "I  will  not  remain  longer;  I  might  scare  off 
your  friend,  and  to  eaves-drop  is  out  of  the  question,  even  if  you 
were  willing  that  I  should  be  present." 

"  In  fact,  colonel,  I  shal  1  probably  discuss  some  very  private 
matters  with  my  friend  Swartz,  so  that — " 

"  You  prefer  I  should  go." 

Mr.  Nighthawk  smiled;  he  was  too  polite  to  say  "  yes." 

"You  are  not  afraid  to  meet  your  friend  in  this  lonely  place?" 
I  said,  rising. 

"Not  at  all,  colonel." 

"You  are  armed?" 

Mr.  Nighthawk  opened  his  coat,  and  showed  me  a  brace  of  re- 
volvers. 

"I  have  these,  but  they  are  unnecessary,  colonel." 

"Unnecessary?" 

"  I  have  an  understanding  with  Swartz,  and  he  with  me." 

"  What  is  that  ?" 

"That  we  shall  not  employ  the  carnal  weapon;  only  destroy 
each  other  by  superior  generalship." 

"You  speak  in  enigmas,  Nighthawk!" 

"  And  yet,  my  meaning  is  very  simple.  If  I  can  have  Swartz 
arrested  and  hung,  or  he  me,  it  is  all  fair.  But  we  have  agreed 
not  to  fight." 

"So,  if  you  caught  him  to-night,  you  could  have  him  hung  as 
a  spy?" 

"Yes,  colonel;  but  nothing  would  induce  me  to  betray  him." 

"Ah!" 

"I  have  given  him  my  parol,  that  he  shall  have  safe  con- 
duct 1" 

8 


176  MOnUN. 

I  laughed,  bade  Nighthawk  good-bye,  and  left  him  smiling  as  I 
had  found  him.  In  ten  minutes  I  was  again  on  the  Brock  road, 
riding  on  through  the  darkness,  between  the  impenetrable  thick- 
ets. 


XXVL 

STUAPwT   SINGS. 


My  reflections  were  by  no  means  gay.  The  scenes  at  the  lonely 
house  had  not  been  cheerful  and  mirth-inspiring. 

That  grinning  corpse,  with  the  crust  of  bread  in  the  bony  fin- 
gers; that  stain  of  blood  on  the  floor;  the  grave  of  Achmed ; 
lastly,  the  appointment  of  the  mysterious  Nighthawk  with  the 
Federal  spy ;  all  were  fantastic  and  lugubrious. 

Who  was  Nighthawk,  and  what  was  his  connection  with  Mo- 
hun  ?  "Who  was  Mohun,  and  what  had  been  his  previous  history  ? 
Who  was  this  youth  of  unbounded  wealth,  as  Nighthawk  had  in- 
timated, in  whose  life  personages  supposed  to  be  dead,  but  still 
alive,  had  figured? 

"  Decidedly,  Mohun  and  Nighthawk  are  two  enigmas!"  I  mut- 
tered,  "and  I  give  the  aflfair  up."" 

"With  which  words  I  spurred  on,  and  soon  debouched  on  the 
Orange  plank  road,  leading  toward  Mine  Run. 

As  I  entered  it,  I  heard  hoof-strokes  on  the  resounding  boards, 
and  a  company  of  horsemen  cantered  toward  me  through  the 
darkness.     As  they  came,  I  heard  a  gay  voice  singing  the  lines : — 

"I  wake  up  in  the  morning, 
I  wake  up  in  the  morning, 
I  wake  up  in  the  morning, 
Before  the  break  o"  day !" 

There  was  no  mistaking  that  gay  sound.  It  was  Stuart,  riding 
at  the  head  of  his  staff  and  couriers. 

In  a  moment  he  had  come  up,  and  promptly  halted  me. 

"  Ah  !  that's  you,  Surry  !"  he  exclaimed  with  a  laugh,  "  wan- 
dering about  here  in  the  Wilderness  I    What  news?" 


STUART     SINGS.  177 

1  reported  the  state  of  things  in  front,  and  Stuart  exclaimed  : — 
"  All  right ;  we  are  ready  for  them  !   Coon  Hollow  is  evacu- 
ated—head-quarters are  in  the  saddle!     Hear  that  whippoorwill! 
It  is  a  good  omen.     "Whip 'em  well!    Whip 'em  well! — and  we'll 
do  it  too!"* 

Stuart  laughed,  and  began  to  sing — 

"  Never  mind  the  weather 

But  get  over  double  trouble  I 
We  are  bound  for  the 
Happy  land  of  Lincoln  1" 

As  the  martial  voice  rang  through  the  shadowy  thickets,  I 
thought,  "  How  fortunate  it  is  that  the  grave  people  are  not  here 
to  witness  this  singular  '  want  of  dignity  '  in  the  great  commander 
of  Lee's  cavalrv  I" 

Those  "grave  people"  would  certainly  have  rolled  their  eyes, 
and  groaned,  "  Oh !  how  undignified  !"  "Was  not  the  occasion  sol- 
emn ?  "Was  it  not  sinful  to  laugh  and  sing  ?  No,  messieurs !  It 
was  right ;  and  much  better  than  rolling  the  eyes,  and  staying  at 
home  and  groaning  !  Stuart  was  going  to  fight  hard — meanwhile 
he  sang  gayly.  Heaven  had  given  him  animal  spirits,  ^nd  he 
laughed  in  the  face  of  danger.  He  laughed  and  sang  on  this  night 
when  he  was  going  to  clash  against  Grant,  as  he  had  laughed  and 
sung  when  he  had  clashed  against  Hooker — when  his  proud  plume 
floated  in  front  of  Jackson's  veterans,  and  he  led  them  over  the 
breastworks  at  Chancellorsville,  singing,  "  Old  Joe  Hooker,  will 
you  come  out  of  the  "Wilderness  !" 

Stuart  cantered  on  :  we  turned  into  the  Brock  road,  and  I  found 
myself  retracing  my  steps  toward  the  Rapidan. 

As  I  passed  near  the  lonely  house,  I  cast  a  glance  toward  the 
glimmering  light.     Had  Nighthawk's  friend  arrived? 

We  soon  reached  Ely's  Ford,  and  I  conducted  Stuart  to  Mor- 
daunt's  bivouac,  which  I  had  left  at  dusk.  He  had  just  wrapped  his 
cloak  around  him,  and  laid  down  under  a  tree,  ready  to  mount  at 
a  moment's  warning. 

""What  news,  Mordaunt?"  said  Stuart,  grasping  his  hand. 

"  Some  fighting  this  evening,  but  it  ceased  about  nightfall, 
general." 

*  His  words. 


178  MOHUN. 

Stuart  looked  toward  the  river,  and  listened  attentively. 

"I  hear  nothing  stirring.'' 

And  passing  his  hand  through  his  beard  he  muttered  half  to 
himself: — 

"  I  wonder  if  Grant  can  have  made  any  change  in  his  ])ro- 
gramme  ?" 

"  The  order  at  least  was  explicit — that  brought  by  Niglit- 
hawk,"  I  said. 

Stuart  turned  toward  me  suddenly. 

"I  wonder  where  he  could  be  found  ?  If  I  knew,  I  would  send 
him  over  the  river  to-night,  to  bring  me  a  reliable  report  of 
every  thing." 

I  drew  the  general  aside. 

"lean  tell  you  where  to  find  Nighthawk." 

"AVhere." 

"Shall  I  bring  him?" 

"Like  lightning,  Surry!  I  wish  to  dispatch  him  at  once!" 

Without  reply  I  wheeled  my  horse,  and  went  back  rapidly  to- 
ward the  house  in  the  Wilderness,  I  soon  reached  the  spot, 
rode  to  the  window,  and  called  to  Nighthawk,  who  came  out 
promptly  at  my  call. 

"  Your  friend  has  not  arrived  ?"  I  said. 

"  He  will  not  come  till  midnight,  colonel." 

"  When,  I  am  afraid,  he  will  not  see  you,  Nighthawk — you  are 
wanted. 

And  I  explained  my  errand.  Niglithawk  sighed — it  was  easy 
to  see  that  he  was  much  disappointed. 

"Well,  colonel,"  he  said,  in  a  resigned  tone,  "  I  must  give  up 
ray  private  business — duty  calls.     I  will  be  ready  in  a  moment." 

And  disappearing,  he  put  out  the  light — issued  forth  in  rear 
of  the  house — mounted  a  horse  concealed  in  the  bushes — and  re- 
joined me  in  front. 

"  Swartz  will  not  know  what  to  think,"  he  said,  as  we  rode 
rapidly  toward  the  river;  "he  knows  I  am  the  soul  of  punc- 
tuality, and  this  failure  to  keep  my  appointment  will  much  dis- 
tress him." 

"Distress  him,  Nighthawk?" 

"  He  will  think  some  harm  has  happened  to  me." 


MOHUN   PwIDES.  179 

And  Mr.  Nighthawk  smiled  so  sadly,  that  I  could  not  refrain 
from  laughter. 

We  soon  reached  the  spot  where  Stuart  awaited  us.  At  sight 
of  Nighthawk  he  uttered  an  exclamation  of  satisfaction,  and  ex- 
plained in  brief  words  his  wishes. 

''That  will  he  easy,  general,"  said  Nighthawk. 

"  Can  you  procure  a  Federal  uniform  ?" 

"I  always  travel  with  one,  general." 

"  And  Mr.  Nighthawk  unstrapped  the  bundle  behind  his  sad- 
dle, drawing  forth  a  blue  coat  and  irowsers,  which  in  five  minutes 
had  replaced  his  black  clothes.  Before  us  stood  one  of  the  "  blue 
birds."     Nighthawk  was  an  unmistakable  "Yankee." 

Stuart  gave  him  a  few  additional  instructions,  and  having 
listened  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  is  engraving  the  words  he 
hears  upon  his  memory,  Nighthawk  disappeared  in  the  dark- 
ness, toward  the  private  crossing,  where  he  intended  to  pass  the 
river. 

Half  an  hour  afterward,  Stuart  was  riding  toward  Germanna 
Ford.    As  we  approached,  Mohun  met  us,  and  reported  all  quiet. 

Stuart  then  turned  back  in  the  direction  of  Chancellorsville, 
where  Nighthawk  was  to  report  to  him,  before  daylight,  if 
possible.    . 


XXVII. 

MOHUN  RIDES. 


I  LiNGEEED  behind  a  moment  to  exchange  a  few  words  with 
Mohun.  Something  told  me  that  he  was  intimately  connected 
with  the  business  which  had  occasioned  thfe  appointment  between 
Nighthawk  and  Swartz — and  at  the  first  words  which  I  uttered, 
I  saw  that  I  was  not  mistaken. 

Mohun  raised  his  head  quickly,  listened  with  Uie  closest  at- 
tention, and  when  I  had  informed  him  of  every  thing,  said 
abruptly :  — 

"Well,  I'll  keep  Nighthawk's  appointment  for  him!" 


ISO  ^[ oil  UN. 

"Yon!"  I  said. 

''  Yes,  my  dear  Surry — this  is  a  matter  of  more  importance  thaa 
you  think.  The  business  will  not  take  long — the  enemy  will  not 
be  moving  before  daylight — and  you  said,  I  think,  that  the  ap- 
pointment w^as  for  midnight?" 

"  Yes." 

Mohun  drew  out  his  watch ;  scratched  a  match  which  he  drew 
from  a  small  metal  case. 

"Just  eleven,"  he  said;  "there  is  time  to  arrive  before  mid- 
night, if  we  ride  well — will  you  show  me  the  way?" 

I  saw  that  he  was  bent  on  his  scheme,  and  said  no  more.  In  a 
few  moments  we  were  in  the  saddle,  and  riding  at  full  speed 
toward  the  house  where  the  meeting  was  to  take  place. 

Mohun  rode  like  the  wild  huntsman,  and  mile  after  mile  dis- 
appeared behind  us — flitting  away  beneath  the  rapid  hoofs  of  our 
horses.  During  the  whole  ride  he  scarcely  opened  his  lips.  He 
seemed  to  be  reflecting  deeply,  and  to  scarcely  realize  my  presence. 

At  last  we  turned  into  the  Brock  road,  and  were  soon  near  the 
lonely  house. 

"  We  have  arrived,"  I  said,  leaping  the  brushwood  fence.  And 
we  galloped  up  the  knoll  toward  the  house,  which  was  as  dark 
and  silent  as  the  grave. 

Dismounting  and  concealing  our  horses  in  the  bushes,  we 
opened  the  door.  Mohun  again  had  recourse  to  his  match-case, 
a.nd  lit  the  candle  left  by  Xighthawk  on  an  old  pine  table,  and 
glanced  at  his  watch. 

"Midnight  exactly  !"  he  said;  "we  have  made  a  good  ride  of 
it,,  Surry." 

"  Yes  ;  and  now  that  I  have  piloted  you  safely,  Mohun,  I  will 
discreetly  retire." 

"  Why  not  remain,  if  you  think  it  will  amuse  you,  my  dear 
friend  ?" 

"But  you  are  going  to  discuss  your  private  affairs,  are  you 
not  ?" 

"  They  are  not  private  from  you,  since  I  have  promised  to 
relate  my  whole  life  to  you." 

"  Then  I  remain  ;  but  do  you  think  our  friend  will  keep  his 
appointment  ?" 


THE    SPY.  181 

"There  he  is,"  said  Mohun,  as  hoof-strokes  were  heard  with- 
out.    "  He  is  punctual." 


XXVIII. 

THE  SPY. 

A  MOMENT  afterward  we  heard  the  new-comer  dismount. 
Then  his  steps  were  heard  on  the  small  porch.  All  at  once  his 
figure  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

It  was  Swartz.  The  fat  person,  the  small  eyes,  the  immense 
double  chin,  and  the  chubby  fingers  covered  with  pinchbeck 
rings,  were  unmistakable. 

He  was  clad  in  citizens'  clothes,  and  covered  with  dust  as  from 
a  long  ride. 

Mohun  rose. 

"  Come  in,  my  dear  Mr.  Swartz,"  he  said  coolly ;  "  you  see  we 
await  you." 

The  spy  recoiled.  It  was  plain  that  he  was  astonished  beyond 
measure  at  seeing  us.  He  threw  a  glance  behind  him  in  the 
direction  of  his  horse,  and  seemed  about  to  fly. 

Mohun  quietly  drew  his  revolver,  and  cocked  it, 

"Fear  nothing,  my  dear  sir,"  he  said,  "and,  above  all,  do  not 
attempt  to  escape." 

Swartz  hesitated,  and  cast  an  uneasy  glance  upon  the  weapon. 

"Does  the  sight  of  this  little  instrument  annoy  you?"  said 
Mohun,  laughing.  "  It  shall  not  be  guilty  of  that  impoliteness,  Mr. 
Swartz." 

And  he  uncocked  the  weapon,  and  replaced  it  in  its  holster. 

"Now,"  he  continued,  "sit  down,  and^et  us  talk." 

Swartz  obeyed.  Before  Mohun's  penetrating  glance,  his  own 
eank.  He  took  his  seat  in  a  broken-backed  chair;  drew  forth  a 
huge  red  bandanna  handkerchief ;  wiped  his  forehead;  and  said 
quietly : — 

"  I  expected  to  meet  a  friend  here  to-night,  gentlemen,  instead 
of " 


182  MOHUN. 

"Enemies?"  interrupted  Mohun.  "TVe  are  such,  it  \s  true, 
my  dear  sir,  but  you  are  quite  safe.  Your  friend  Nighthawk  is 
called  away  ;  he  is  even  ignorant  of  our  presence  here." 

"But  meeting  him  would  have  been  different,  gentlemen.  I 
had  his  safe  conduct!" 

"  You  shall  have  it  from  me." 

"  May  I  ask  from  whom  ?"  said  Swartz. 

"  From  General  Mohun,  of  the  Confederate  army." 

Swartz  smiled  this  time ;  then  making  a  grotesque  bow,  he 
replied: — 

"  I  knew  you  very  well,  general — that  is  why  I  am  so  much  at 
my  ease.  I  am  pleased  to  hear  that  you  are  promoted.  When  I 
last  savr  you,  you  were  only  a  colonel,  but  I  was  certain  that 
you  would  soon  be  promoted  or  killed." 

There  was  a  queer  accent  of  politeness  in  the  voice  of  the 
speaker.  He  did  not  seem  to  have  uttered  these  words  in  order 
to  flatter  his  listener,  but  to  express  his  real  sentiment.  He  was 
evidently  a  character. 

"  Good !"  said  Mohun,  with  his  habitual  accent  of  satire. 
"  These  little  compliments  are  charming.  But  I  am  in  haste  to- 
night— let  us  come  to  business,  my  dear  sir.  I  came  hither  to 
ask  you  some  questions,  and  to  these  I  expect  plain  replies." 

Swartz  looked  at  the  speaker  intently,  but  without  suspicion. 
His  glance,  on  the  contrary,  had  in  it  something  strangely  open 
and  unreserved. 

"I  will  reply  to  all  your  questions,  general,"  he  said,  "and 
reply  truthfully.  I  have  long  expected  this  interview,  and  will 
even  say  that  I  wished  it.  You  look  on  rae  as  a  Yankee  spy,  and 
will  have  but  little  confidence  in  what  I  say.  ^STevertheless,  I  am 
going  to  tell  you  the  whole  truth  about  every  thing.  Ask  your 
questions,  general,  I  will  answer  them." 

Mohun  was  leaning  one  elbow  on  the  broken  table.  His 
glance,  calm  and  yet  fiery,  seemed  bent  on  penetrating  to  the 
most  secret  recess  of  the  spy's  heart. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  now  that  we  begin  to  understand  each  other, 
let  us  come  to  the  point  at  once.  Where  were  you  on  the  morning 
of  the  thirteenth  of  December,  1856?" 

Swartz  replied  without  hesitation  : — 


THE     SPY.  183 

*'0n  the  bank  of  Nottoway  River,  in  Dinwiddie,  Virginia,  and 
bound  for  Petersburg." 

"  Tlie  object  of  yoar  journey  ?" 

"To  sell  dried  fruits  and  winter  vegetables." 

"  Then  you  travelled  in  a  cart,  or  a  wagon?" 

"  In  a  cart,  general." 

"  You  reached  Petersburg  without  meeting  with  any  incident 
on  the  way  ?" 

"I  met  with  two  very  curious  ones,  general.  I  see  you  know 
something  about  the  affair,  and  are  anxious  to  know  every  thing. 
I  will  tell  you  the  whole  truth  ;  but  it  will  be  best  to  let  me  do 
it  in  my  own  way." 

"  Do  so,  then,"  said  Mohun,  fixing  his  eyes  more  intently  upon 
the  spy. 

Swartz  was  silent  again  for  more  than  a  minute,  gazing  on  tho 
floor.  Then  he  raised  his  head,  passed  his  red  handkerchief  over 
his  brow,  and  said  : — 

"  To  begin  at  the  beginning,  general.  At  the  time  you  speak 
of,  December,  1856,  I  was  a  small  landholder  in  Dinwiddie,  and 
made  my  living  by  carting  vegetables  and  garden-truck  to  Peters- 
burg. Well,  on6  morning  in  winter — you  remind  me  that  it  was 
the  thirteenth  of  December, — I  set  out,  as  usual,  in  my  cart  drawn 
by  an  old  mule,  with  a  good  load  on  board,  to  go  by  way  of  Monk's 
Neck.  I  had  not  gone  two  miles,  however,  when  passing  through 
a  lonely  piece  of  woods  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  I  heard  a  strange 
cry  in  the  brush.  It  was  the  most  startling  you  can  think  of,  and 
made  my  heart  stop  beating.  I  jumped  down  from  my  cart,  left 
it  standing  in  the  narrow  road,  and  went  to  the  spot.  It  was  a 
strange  sight  I  saw.  On  the  bank  of  the  river,  I  saw  a  woman 
lying  drenched  with  water,  and  half-dead.  She  was  richly 
dressed,  and  of  very  great  beauty — but  I  never  saw  any  human 
face  so  pale,  or  clothes  more  torn  and  draggled." 

The  spy  paused.  Mohun  shaded  his  eyes  from  the  light,  with 
his  hands,  and  said  coolly  : — 

"Goon." 

'•  "Well,  general — that  was  enougli  to  astonish  anybody — and 
what  is  more  astonishing  still,  I  have  never  to  this  day  discovered 
the  meaning  of  the  woman'*  being  there — for  it  was  plain  that  she 
8* 


1S4:  MOHUN^. 

was  a  lady.  She  was  lialf-dead  with  cold,  and  had  cried  out  in 
what  seemed  to  be  a  sort  of  delirium.  Wheu  I  raised  her  up,  and 
wrung  the  wet  out  of  her  clothes,  she  looked  at  me  so  strangely 
that  I  was  frightened.  I  asked  her  how  she  had  come  there,  but 
she  made  no  reply.  Where  should  I  take  her  ?  She  made  no 
reply  to  that  either.  She  seemed  dumb — out  of  her  wits — and,  to 
make  a  long  story  short,  I  half  led  and  half  carried  her  to  the  cart 
in  which  I  put  her,  making  a  sort  of  bed  for  her  of  some  old  bags. 

"  I  set  out  on  my  way  again,  without  having  the  least  notion 
what  I  should  do  with  her — for  she  seemed  a  lady — and  only 
with  a  sort  of  idea  that  her  friends  might  probably  pay  me  for 
my  trouble,  some  day. 

"  Well,  I  went  on  for  a  mile  or  two  farther,  when  a  new  ad- 
venture happened  to  me.  That  was  stranger  still — it  was  like  a 
story-book  ;  and  you  will  hardly  believe  me — but  as  I  was  going 
througli  a  piece  of  woods,  following  a  by-road  by  which  I  cut 
off  a  mile  or  more,  I  heard  groans  near  the  road,  and  once  more 
stopped  ray  cart.  Then  I  listened.  I  was  scared,  and  began  to 
believe  in  witchcraft.  The  groans  came  from  the  woods  on  my 
left,  and  there  was  no  doubt  about  the  sound — so,  having  listened 
for  some  time,  I  mustered  courage  to  go  in  the  -direction  of  the 
sound.     Can  you  think  what  I  found,  general?" 

"  What?"  said  Mohun,  in  the  same  cool  voice  ;   "  tell  me." 

"  A  man  lying  in  a  grave  ; — a  real  grave,  general — broad  and 
deep — a  man  with  a  hole  through  his  breast,  and  streaming  with 
blood." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?" 

And  Mohun  uttered  a  laugh. 

"  Just  as  I  tell  you,  general — it  is  the  simple,  naked  truth. 
When  I  got  to  the  place,  he  was  struggling  to  get  oat  of  the 
grave,  and  his  breast  was  bleeding  terribly.  I  never  saw  a  hu- 
man being  look  paler.  '  Help  I'  he  cried  out,  in  a  sutfocated 
voice  like,  when  he  saw  me — and  as  he  spoke,  he  made  such  a 
strong  effort  to  rise,  that  his  wound  gushed  with  blood,  and  he 
fainted." 

*'He  fainted,  did  he?     And  what  did  you  do?"  said  Mohun. 

"  I  took  him  up  in  my  arms,  general,  as  I  had  taken  the  wo- 
man, carried  him  to  my  cart,  when  I  bound  up  his  breast  in  the 


THE    SPY.  185 

best  way  I  could,  and  laid  him  by  tbe  side  of  the  half-drowned 
lady." 

''  To  get  a  reward  from  his  friends,  too,  no  doubt  ?" 

"Well,  general,  we  must  live,  you  know.  And  did  I  not  de- 
serve something  for  being  so  scared — and  for  the  use  of  my 
mule?" 

"  Certainly  you  did.  Is  not  the  laborer  worthy  of  his  hire  ? 
But  go  on,  sir — your  tale  is  interesting." 

"  Tale,  general?     It  is  the  truth — on  the  word  of  Swartz  !" 

"  I  no  longer  doubt  now,  if  I  did  before,"  said  Mohun  ;  "  but 
tell  me  the  end  of  your  adventure." 

"  I  can  do  that  in  a  few  words,  general.  I  whipped  up  my  old 
mule,  and  went  on  through  the  woods,  thinking  what  I  had  best 
do  with  the  man  and  the  woman  I  had  saved.  I  could  take  them 
to  Petersburg,  and  tell  my  story  to  the  mayor  or  some  good  citi- 
zen, who  would  see  that  they  w^ere  taken  care  of.  But  as  soon 
as  I  said  'mayor'  to  myself,  I  thought  'he  is  the  chief  of  police.' 
Police  ! — that  is  one  of  the  ugliest  words  in  the  language,  general ! 
Some  people  shiver,  and  their  flesh  crawls,  when  you  cut  a  cork, 
or  scratch  on  a  window  pane — well,  it  is  strange,  bnt  I  have  al- 
ways felt  in  that  way  when  1  heard,  or  thought  of,  the  word, 
police !  And  here  I  was  going  to  have  dealings  with  the  said 
police  !  I  was  going  to  say  '  I  found  these  people  on  the  iSTotto- 
way — one  half-drowned,  and  the  other  in  a  newly  dug  grave!' 
No,  I  thank  you !  We  never  know  wliat  our  characters  will 
stand,  and  I  was  by  no  means  certain  that  mine  would  stand 
that !  Then  the  reward — I  wished  to  have  ray  lady  and  gentle- 
man under  my  eye.  So,  after  thinking  over  the  matter  for  some 
miles,  I  determined  to  leave  them  with  a  crony  of  mine  near 
Monk's  Neck,  named  Alibi,  w^ho  would  take  care  of  them  and  say 
nothing.  Well,  I  did  so,  and  went  onto  Petersburg,  where  I  sold 
my  truck.  When  I  got  back  they  were  in  bed,  and  on  my  next 
visit  they  were  at  the  point  of  death.  About  that  time  I  was 
taken  sick,  and  was  laid  up  for  more  than  three  months.  When 
I  went  to  see  my  birds  at  Monk's  Neck,  they  had  flown !" 

"Without  leaving  you  their  adieux ?" 

"  No,  they  were  at  least  polite.  They  left  me  a  roll  of  bank 
notes— more  than  I  thought  they  had  about  them." 


186  M  o  n  U  N . 

"You  had  searclied  tliein,  of  course,  when  they  were  lying  in 
your  cart,"  said  Mohun. 

Swartz  smiled. 

"I  acknowledge  it,  general — I  forgot  to  mention  the  fact.  I 
had  found  only  a  small  amount  in  the  gentleman's  i)ocket-book — 
nothing  on  the  ladv — and  I  never  could  understand  where  he  or 
she  had  concealed  about  their  persons  such  a  considerable  amount 
of  money — though  I  suppose,  in  a  secret  pocket." 

Mohun  nodded. 

"  That  is  often  done — well,  that  was  the  last  of  them  ?^' 

Swartz  smiled,  and  glanced  at  Mohun. 

"What  is  the  use  of  any  concealment,  my  dear  Mr.  Swartz?" 
said  the  latter.  "You  may  as  well  tell  the  whole  story,  as  you 
have  gone  this  far," 

"You  are  right,  general,  and  I  will  finish.  The  war  broke  out, 
and  I  sold  my  truck  patch,  and  invested  in  a  better  business — 
that  is,  running  the  blockade  across  the  Potomac,  and  smuggling 
in  goods  for  the  Riclmiond  market.  On  one  of  these  trips,  I  met, 
plump,  in  the  streets  of  Washington,  no  less  a  person  than  tlie 
lady  whom  I  had  rescued.  She  was  richly  dressed,  and  far  more 
beautiful,  but  there  was  no  mistaking  her.  I  spoke  to  her;  she 
recognized  me,  took  me  to  her  house,  and  here  I  found  the 
gentleman^  dressed  in  a  fine  new  uniform.  He  was  changed  too — 
liis  wound  had  long  healed,  he  was  stout  and  strong,  but  I  knew 
him,  too,  at  a  glance.  Well,  I  spent  the  evening,  and  when  I  left 
the  house  had  accepted  an  offer  made  me  to  combine  a  new 
business  with  that  of  blockade  runner." 

"That  of  spy,  you  mean?"  said  Mohun. 

Swartz  smiled. 

"You  speak  plainly,  general.  We  call  ourselves  'secret agents* 
— but  either  word  expresses  the  idea!" 


THE     PAPER.  187 

XXIX. 

THE  PAPER. 

MonrN  raised  his  head,  and  looked  Swartz  fall  in  the  face.  His 
glance  had  grown,  if  possible,  more  penetrating  than  before,  and 
a  grim  smile  responded  to  the  unctuous  expression  of  the  spy. 

"  Well,  my  dear  Mr.  Swartz,"  he  said  coolly,  "that  is  a  curious 
history.  Others  might  doubt  its  accuracy,  but  I  give  you  my 
word  that  I  do  not!  I  did  well  to  let  you  proceed  in  your  own 
way,  instead  of  questioning  you— but  I  have  not  yet  done  ;  and 
this  time  shall  return  to  the  method  of  interrogation." 

"At  your  orders,  general,"  said  Swartz,  whose  quick  glance 
showed  that  he  was  on  his  guard,  and  foresaw  what  was  coming. 

Mohun  leaned  tow^ard  the  spy. 

"  Let  us  proceed  to  '  call  names,' "  lie  said.  "  The  man  you  res- 
cued from  the  grave  was  Colonel  Darke?" 

"Exactly,  general." 

"Is  that  his  real  name,  or  a  false  one?" 

Swartz  hesitated;  then  replied  : — 

"A  false  one." 

"His  real  name?" 

"  Mortimer." 

"And  the  lady  is V 

"His  wife,  general." 

"  Good,"  said  Mohun,  "  you  are  well  informed,  I  see,  ray  dear 
Mr.  Swartz ;  and  it  is  a  pleasure  to  converse  with  a  gentleman 
who  knows  so  much,  and  knows  it  so  accurately." 

"You  flatter  my  pride,  general!" 

"  I  do  you  justice— but  to  the  point.  Your  story  was  cut  off  in 
the  middle.  After  the  interview  in  Washington,  you  continued 
to  see  Colonel  Darke  and  his  wife  ?" 

"I  saw  them  frequently,  general." 

"In  the  army — and  at  their  home,  both?" 

"Y^s,  general."  i 

"Where  did  they  live?" 

"Near  Carlisle,  Pennsylvania." 


18S  MOHUN. 

"Where  you  were  on  a  visit,  just  before  the  battle  of  Gettys- 
burg?" 

"Yes,  general." 

"  Very  good !" 

And  rising  quickly,  Mohun  confronted  the  spy,  who  drew  back 
unconsciously. 

"  Where  is  the  paper  that  you  stole  from  the  woman  that 
night?"  he  said. 

Swartz  was  unable  to  sustain  the  fiery  glance  directed  toward 
him  by  Mohun. 

"Then  Nighthawk  has  told  you  all!"  he  exclaimed. 

"  Colonel  Surry  saw  you  hide  the  paper." 

Swartz  looked  suddenly  toward  me — his  smiles  had  all  vanished. 

"The  paper!  give  me  tbe  paper  I"  exclaimed  Mohun;  "you 
shall  have  gold  for  it!" 

"I  have  left  it  in  Culpeper,  general." 

"  Liar  I — give  me  the  paper! 

Swartz  started  to  his  feet. 

Mohun  caught  at  his  throat — the  spy  recoiled — when  suddenly 
a  quick  firing  was  heard  coming  rapidly  from  the  direction  of 
Germanna  Ford. 

"The  enemy  have  crossed,  Mohun!"  I  cried. 

Mohun  started,  and  turned  his  head  in  the  direction  of  the 
sound, 

"They  are  advancing!"  I  said,   "but  look  out! — the  spy! — " 

Mohun  wheeled,  drawing  his  pistol. 

Swartz  had  profited  by  the  moment,  when  our  attention  was 
attracted  by  the  firing,  to  pass  through  the  door,  gain  his  horse 
at  a  bound,  and  throw  himself  into  the  saddle,  with  an  agility 
that  was  incredible  in  one  so  fat. 

At  the  same  moment  Mohun's  pistol-shot  responded,  but  the 
bullet  whistled  harmlessly  over  the  spy's  head.  In  an  in^tanthe 
had  disappeared  in  the  woods. 

Mohun  rushed  to  his  horse,  I  followed,  and  we  were  soon  riding 
at  full  speed  in  the  direction  of  the  firing. 

As  we  advanced,  however,  it  receded.  We  pushed  gn,  and 
reached  the  bank  of  the  Rapidan  just  as  Mohun's  men  had  driven 
a  party  of  the  enemy  over. 


GRAKT    STRIKES    HIS    FIRST    B^LOW.   180 

It  was  only  a  small  body,  who,  crossing  at  a  private  ford  and 
surprising  the  sleepy  picket,  had  raided  into  the  thicket,  to  retire 
promptly  when  they  wei^  assailed. 

The  affair  was  nothing.  Unfortunately,  however,  it  had  en- 
abled the  Federal  spy  to  elude  us. 

Swartz  had  disappeared  like  a  bird  of  the  night;  and  all  pur- 
suit of  him  in  such  a  wilderness  was  impossible. 

An  hour  afterward,  I  had  rejoined  Stuart. 


XXX. 

aRANT  STRIKES  HIS  FIRST  BLOW." 

Srcn  were  the  singular  scenes  which  I  witnessed,  amid  the 
shadows  of  the  Spottsylvania  Wilderness,  in  the  first  days  of 

Mav,  1864.  . 

The  narrative  has  brought  the  reader  now  to  an  hour  past  mid- 
night on  the  third  of  May. 

An  hour  before— that  is  to  say,  at  midnight  precisely— the 
Federal  forces  began  to  move  :  at  six  in  the  morning,  they  had 
massed  on  the  north  bank  of  the  Rapidan  ;  and  as  the  sun  rose 
above  the  Wilderness,  the  blue  columns  began  to  cross  the  river. 

General  Grant,  at  the  head  of  his  army  of  140,000  men,  had  set 
forth  on  his  great  advance  toward  Richmond— that  advance  so 
often  tried,  so  often  defeated,  but  which  now  seemed,  from  the 
verv  nature  of  things,  to  be  destined  to  succeed. 

Any  other  hypothesis  seemed  absurd.  What  could  50,000  do 
a-ainst  nearly  thrice  their  number?  What  could  arrest  the  im- 
mense machine  rolling  forward  to  crush  the  Confederacy  ?  A 
glance  at  Grant's  splendid  array  was  enough  to  make  the  stoutest 
heart  sink.  On  this  4th  day  of  May,  1864,  he  was  crossing  the 
Rapidan  with  what  resembled  a  countless  host.  Heavy  masses 
of  blue  infantry,  with  glittering  bayonets— huge  parks  of  rifled 
artillery,  with  their  swarming  cannoneers— long  columns  of 
horsemen,  armed  with  sabre  and  repeating  carbines,  made  the 


190  •  MOHUy. 

earth  shake,  and  the  woods  echo  witli  their  heavy  and  continuous 
tramp,  mingled  with  the  roll  of  wheels. 

In  front  of  them,  a  little  army  of  gaunt  and  ragged  men, 
looked  on  and  waited,  without  resisting  their  advance.  "What 
did  that  waiting  mean?  Did  they  intend  to  dispute  the  passage 
of  that  multitude  toward  Richmond?  It  seemed  incredible,  but 
that  was  exactly  the  intention  of  Lee. 

It  is  now  known  that  General  Grant  and  his  officers  felicitated 
themselves  greatly  on  the  safe  passage  of  the  Rapidan,  and  were 
convinced  that  Lee  would  hasten  to  retreat  toward  the  South 
Anna. 

Instead  of  retreating,  Lee  advanced  and  delivered  battle. 

The.  first  collision  took  place  on  the  5th  of  May,  when  the 
Federal  army  was  rapidly  massing  in  the  Wilderness. 

Ewell  had  promptly  advanced,  and  about  noon  was  forming 
line  of  battle  across  the  old  turnpike,  when  he  was  vigorously 
attacked  by  "Warren,  and  his  advance  driven  back.  But  the  real 
obstacle  was  behind.  Swell's  rear  closed  up — he  advanced  in  his 
turn;  assailed  Warren  with  fury;  swept  him  back  into  the 
thicket;  seized  two  pieces  of  his  artillery,  with  about  1,000 
prisoners;  and  for  the  time  completely  paralyzed  the  Federal 
force  in  his  front. 

Such  was  the  first  blow  struck.  It  had  failed,  and  General 
Grant  turned  his  attention  to  A.  P.  Hill,  who  had  hastened  up, 
and  formed  line  of  battle  across  the  Orange  plank  road,  on 
Eweirs  right. 

Hancock  directed  the  assault  here,  and  we  have  General  Lee's 
testimony  to  the  fact,  that  the  Federal  attempts  to  drive  back 
Hill  were  "  repeated  and  desperate."  All  failed.  Hill  stub- 
bornly held  his  ground.  At  night  tlie  enemy  retired,  and  gave 
up  all  further  attempts  on  that  day  to  make  any  headway. 

Grant  had  expected  to  find  a  mere  rear-guard,  while  Lee's 
main  body  was  retreating  upon  Richmond. 

He  found  two  full  corps  in  his  front ;  and  there  was  no  doubt 
that  a  third — that  of  Longstreet — was  approaching. 

Lee  was  evidentjy  going  to  fight — his  aim  was,  plainly,  to  shut 
up  Grant  in  the  Wilderness,  and  drive  him  back  beyond  the 
Rapidan,  or  destroy  him. 


THE    REPORT.  191 


XXX. 

THE     REPORT. 

It  was  twiligbt,  and  the  fighting  was  over. 

The  two  tigers  had  drawn  back,  and,  crouching  down,  panted 
heavily, — resting  and  gathering  new  strength  for  the  fiercer  con- 
iiict  of  the  next  dav. 

From  the  thickets  rose  the  stifled  hum  of  the  two  hosts.  Only 
a  few  shots  were  heard,  now  and  then,  from  the  skirmishers,  and 
these  resembled  the  last  drops  of  a  storm  which  had  spent  its 
fury. 

I  had  been  sent  by  General  Stuart  with  an  order  to  General 
Hampton,  who  commanded  the  cavalry  on  Hill's  right. 

Hampton  was  sitting  his  horse  in  a  field  extending,  at  this 
point,  between  us  and  the  erteray ;  and,  if  it  were  necessary,  I 
would  draw  his  outline.  It  is  not  necessary,  however  ;  every  one 
is  familiar  Avith  the  figure  of  this  great  and  faithful  soldier,  in  his 
old  gray  coat,  plain  arms  and  equipments,  on  his  large  and  power- 
ful war-horse, — man  and  horse  ready  for  battle.  In  the  war  I 
saw  many  great  figures, — Hampton's  was  one  of  the  noblest. 

Having  delivered  my  message  to  General  Hampton,  who  re- 
ceived it  with  his  air  of  grave,  yet  cordial  courtesy,  I  turned  to 
shake  hands  with  Captain  Church — a  thorough-bred  young  oflBcer, 
as  brave  as  steel,  and  one  of  my  best  friends — when  an  exclama- 
tion from  the  staif  attracted  my  attention,  and  looking  round,  I 
saw  the  cause. 

At  the  opposite  extremity  of  the  extensive  field,  a  solitary 
horseman  was  seen  darting  out  of  the  woods  occupied  by  the 
Federal  infantry,  and  this  man  was  obviously  a  deserter,  making 
his  way  into  our  lines. 

At  a  sign  from  General  Hampton,  Captain  Church  went  to 
meet  him,  and  as  my  horse  was  fresh,  I  accompanied  my  friend 
in  his  ride. 

The  deserter  came  on  at  full  speed  to  meet  us,  and  for  a  mo- 
ment, his  horse  skimmed  the  dusky  expanse  like  a  black-winged 


192  MOHUN. 

bird.*  Then,  all  at  once,  his  speed  moderated  ;  he  approached  at 
a  jog-trot,  and  through  the  gathering  gloom  I  recognized,  above 
the  blue  uniform,  the  sweetly  smiling  countenance  of  Nighthawk ! 
.  "Good  evening,  colonel,"  said  Nighthawk;  "  I  am  glad  to  see 
you  again,  and  hope  you  are  well." 

"  So  you  have  turned  deserter,  Nighthawk  ?"  I  said,  laughing 
heartily. 

"  Precisely,  colonel.  I  could  not  get  oflf  before.  Will  you  in- 
form  me  where  I  can  find  General  Stuart?" 

"I  will  take  you  to  him." 

And  riding  back  with  Captain  Church  and  Nighthawk,  I  soon 
found  myself  again  in  presence  of  General  Hampton. 

A  word  from  me  explained  the  real  character  of  the  pseudo- 
deserter.  General  Hampton  asked  a  number  of  questions,  Night- 
hawk  replied  to  them,  and  then  the  latter  begged  me  to  conduct 
him  to  General  Stuart.  I  did  so  without  delay,  and  we  soon 
reached  Stuart's  bivouac,  where  he  was  talking  with  his  staff  by 
a  camp-fire. 

At  sight  of  the  blue  figure  he  scarcely  turned ;  then  suddenly 
he  recognized  Nighthawk,  and  burst  into  laughter. 

''Well,  my  blue  night-bird!"  he  exclaimed,  "here  you  are  at 
last !     What  news ?     Is  Grant  going  to  cross  the  river?" 

Nighthawk  hung  his  head,  and  sighed  audibly. 

"I  could  not  help  it,  general." 

"  Why  didn't  you  come  before  ?" 

"  It  was  impossible,  general." 

Stuart  shook  his  head. 

"Strike  that  word  out  of  vour  dictionarv,  mv  friend."! 

"  That  is  good  advice,  general;  but  this  time  they  nonplussed 
me.     They  blocked  every  road,  and  I  had  to  join  their  army." 

"  Well,  I  hope  you  got  the  $600  bounty,"  said  Stuart,  laughing. 

"That  was  another  impossibility,  general;  but  I  enjoyed  the 
very  best  society  yonder." 

"  What  society,  Nighthawk  ?" 

"That  of  Grant,  Meade,  and  Sedgwick." 

"  Ah !  ray  old  friend.  General  Sedgwick !  But  where  are 
Grant's  head-quarters,  Nighthawk?     Tell  me  every  thing  !'' 

*  This  scene  Is  real.  t  His  words. 


THE    REPORT.  193 

"At  Old  Wilderness  Taveru,  general." 

"  And  you  saw  him  there  ?" 

"  In  the  midst  of  his  generals, — I  was  temporarily  one  of  his 

couriers." 

"  I  understand.     Well,  their  intended  movements  ?" 

Nighthawk  shook  his  head. 

''  I  could  have  foretold  you  those  of  to-day,  general." 

"How?" 

"I  heard  G-eneral  Meade  dictating  his  order,  through  the  win- 
dow of  his  head-quarters,  and  can  repeat  it   verbatim^  if  you 

desire." 

"By  all  means,   ISTighthawk, — it  will  reveal  his  programme. 
But  is  it  possible  that  you  can  do  so  ?" 

"  I  can,  general ;   I  engraved  every  word  on  ray  memory." 

And,  fixing  his  eyes  intently  upon  vacancy,  Nighthawk  com- 
menced in  a  low,  monotonous  voice: — 

"  The  following  movements  are  ordered  for  the  5th  May,  1864. 
General  Sheridan,  commanding  cavalry  corps,  will  move  with 
Gregg's  and  Torbert's  divisions  against  the  enemy's  cavalry,  in 
the  direction  of  Hamilton's  Crossing.  General  Wilson,  with  the 
Third  cavalry  division,  will  move  at  5  a.  m.,  to  Craig's  meeting- 
house, on  the  Catharpin  road.  He  will  keep  out  parties  on  the 
Orange  Court-House  pike,  and  plank  road,  the  Catharpin  road, 
Pamunkey  road,  and  in  the  direction  of  Troyman's  store  and 
Andrews's  store,  or  Good  Hope  church.  2.  Major-General 
Hancock,  commanding  Second  Corps,  will  move  at  5  a.  m.,  to 
Shady  Grove  church,  and  extend  his  right  toward  the  Fifth  Corps 
at  Parker's  store.  3.  Major-General  Warren,  commanding 
Fifth  Corps,  will  move  at  5  a.  m.,  to  Parker's  store,  on  the  Orange 
Court-House  plank  road,  and  extend  his  right  toward  the  Sixth 
Corps  at  Old  Wilderness  Tavern.  4.  Major-General  Sedgwick, 
commanding  Sixth  Corps,  will  move  to  the  Old  Wilderness 
Tavern,  on  the  Orange  Court-House  pike,  as  soon  as  the  road  is 
clear." 

The  monotonous  voice  stopped.     I  had  listened  with  astonish- 
ment, and  found  it   difficult  to  credit  this  remarkable  feat  of 
memory,  though  it  took  place  before  my  eyes,  or  rather,  in  my 
ears. 


194  MOnUN. 

'It  13  really  wonderful,"  said  Stuart,  gravely. 

"You  see,"  said  Nighthawk,  returning  to  his  original  voice, 
so  to  speak,  "you  see,  general,  this  would  have  been  of  sorae 
importance  yesterday." 

"It  is  very  important  now,"  said  Stuart;  "  it  indicates  Grant's 
programme — his  wish  to  get  out  of  the  Wilderness.  He  is  at  Old 
Wilderness  Tavern  ?" 

"He  was  this  morning,  general,  with  Yeade  and  Sedgwick." 

"  You  were  there  ?" 

"I  was,  general." 

"  What  did  you  gather,  Nighthawk  ?" 

"  Little  or  nothing,  general.  True,  I  heard  one  or  two  amusing 
things  as  I  loitered  among  the  couriers  near." 

"  What  ?" 

"  General  Grant  came  out  talking  with  Meade,  Sedgwick, 
and  AVarren.  General  Meade  said,  '  They  have  left  a  division  to 
fool  us  here^  while  they  concentrate^  and  prepare  a  position  toward 
the  North  Anna^ — and  what  I  want  is  to  prevent  these  fellows 
from  getting  hack  to  Mine  Hun.''  "  * 

Stuart  laughed. 

"  Well,  '  these  fellows'  don't  appear  to  be  going  back.  What 
did  Grant  say?" 

"He  smoked,  general." 

"  And  did  not  open  his  lips  ?" 

"  Only  once,  when  General  Meade  said  something  about  '  ma- 
noeuvring.' " 

"What  did  he  sav?" 

"  I  can  give  you  his  words.  He  took  his  cigar  from  his  lips 
— puffed  out  the  smoke — and  replied,  ^  Oh !  J  never  ma- 
ncBuvrc  !  '  "  * 

"  So  much  the  better,"  said  Stuart :  "  the  general  that  does  not 
manoeuvre  sacrifices  his  men  :  and  I  predict  that  General  Grant 
will  soon  alter  his  programme." 

Stuart  had  ordered  his  horse  to  be  saddled,  and  now  mounted 
to  go  to  General  Lee's  head-quarters. 

"  By  the  bye,"  he  said,  "  did  you  hear  Warren  or  Sedgwick 
say  any  thing,  Xighthawk?" 

*  II is  words. 


THE    UNSEEN    DEATH.  195 

Niglithawk  smiled. 

"I  heard  Sedgwick  utter  a  few  words,  general." 

"  What  ?" 

"He  said  to  Warren,  '•  I  hear  Hood  is  to  take  Stuarfs  place. 
I  am  glad  ofit^for  Stuart  is  the  hest  cavalry  officer  ever  foaled  in 
North  AmericaP  "  * 


XXXII. 

THE    UNSEEN    DEATH. 


The  morning  of  the  6th  of  May  was  ushered  in  with  thunder. 

The  battle  of  the  preceding  day  had  been  a  sort  of  "  feeler  " — 
now  the  real  struggle  came. 

By  a  curious  coincidence,  Grant  and  Lee  both  began  the  attack 
and  at  the  same  hour.  At  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  blue  and 
gray  ranks  rushed  together,  and  opened  fire  on  each  other.  Or 
rather,  they  fired  when  they  heard  each  others'  steps  and  shouts. 
You  saw  little  in  that  jungle. 

I  have  already  spoken  more  than  once  of  this  sombre  country — 
a  land  of  undergrowth,  thicket,  ooze  ;  where  sight  failed,  and. 
attacks  had  to  be  made  by  the  needle,  the  officers  advancing  in 
front  of  the  line  with  drawn — compasses! 

The  assaults  here  were  worse  than  night- fighting ;  the  com- 
bats strange  beyond  example.  Regiments,  brigades,  and  divi- 
sions stumbled  on  each  other  before  they  knew  it ;  and  each 
opened  fire,  guided  alone  by  the  crackling  of  steps  in  the  bushes. 
There  was  something  weird  and  lugubrious  in  such  a  struggle. 
It  was  not  a  conflict  of  men,  matched  against  each  other  in  civil- 
ized warfare.  Two  wild  animals  were  prowling,  and  hunting 
each  other  in  the  jungle.  When  they  heard  each  others'  steps, 
they  sprang  and  grappled.  One  fell,  the  other  fell  upon  him. 
Then  the  conqueror  rose  up  and  went  in  pursuit  of  other  game — 
the  dead  was  lost  from  all  eyes. 

*  Ilis  words. 


196  MOHUX. 

In  this  mournful  and  desolate  country  of  the  Spottsylvania 
Wilderness,  did  the  bloody  campaign  of  1864  begin.  Here,where 
the  very  landscape  seemed  dolorous;  here,  in  blind  wrestle,  as  at 
midnight,  did  200,000  men,  in  blue  and  gray,  clutch  each  other — 
bloodiest  and  weirdest  of  encounters. 

"War  had  had  nothing  like  it.  Destruction  of  life  had  become 
a  science,  and  was  done  by  the  compass. 

The  Genius  of  Blood,  apparently  tired  of  the  old  common-place 
mode  of  killing,  had  invented  the  "  Unseen  Death,"  in  the  depths 
of  the  jungle. 

On  the  morning  of  May  Gth,  Lee  and  Grant  had  grappled,  and 
the  battle  became  general  along  the  entire  line  of  the  two  armies. 
In  these  rapid  memoirs  I  need  only  outline  this  bitter  struggle — 
the  histories  will  describe  it. 

Lee  was  aiming  to  get  around  the  enemy's  left,  and  huddle  him 
up  in  the  thicket — but  in  this  he  failed. 

Just  as  Longstreet,  who  had  arrived  and  taken  part  in  the 
action,  was  advancing  to  turn  the  Federal  flank  on  the  Brock 
road,  he  was  wounded  by  one  of  his  own  men ;  and  the  move- 
ment was  arrested  in  mid  career. 

But  Lee  adhered  to  his  plan.  He  determined  to  lead  his  col- 
umn in  person,  and  would  ha^■e  done  so,  but  for  the  remonstrances 
of  his  men. 

"  To  the  rear  I"  shouted  the  troops,  as  he  rode  in  front  of  them ; 
''  to  the  rear!" 

And  he  was  obliged  to  obey. 

He  was  not  needed. 

The  gray  lines  surged  forward :  the  thicket  was  full  of  smoke 
and  quick  flashes  of  flame :  then  the  woods  took  fire,  and  the 
scene  of  carnage  had  a  new  and  ghastly  feature  added  to  it.  Dense 
clouds  of  smoke  rose,  blinding  and  choking  the  combatants :  the 
flames  crackled,  soared  aloft,  and  were  blown  in  the  men's  faces; 
and  still,  in  the  midst  of  this  frightful  array  of  horrors,  the  carni- 
val of  destruction  went  on  without  ceasing. 

At  nightfall,  General  Lee  had  driven  the  enemy  from  their  front 
line  of  works — but  nothing  was  gained. 

What  could  be  gained  in  that  wretched  country,  where  there 
was  nothing  but  thicket,  thicket  I 


BREATHED    AND    HIS    GUN.  197 

General  Grant  saw  his  danger,  and,  no  donbt,  divined  the  ob- 
ject of  his  adversary,— to  arrest  and  cripple  him  in  this  tangle- 
wood,  where  numbers  did  not  count,  and  artillery  could  not  be  used. 

There  was  but  one  thing  to  do— to  get  out  of  the  jungle. 

So,  on  the  day  after  this  weird  encounter,  in  which  he  had  lost 
nearly  20,000  men,  and  Lee  about  8,000,  Grant  moved  toward 
Spottsylvania. 

The  thickets  of  the  Wilderness  were  again  silent,  and  the  blue 
and  gray  objects  in  the  undergrowth  did  not  move. 

The  war-dogs  had  gone  to  tear  each  other  elsewhere. 


XXXIII. 

BREATHED  AND  HIS   GUN. 

In  the  din  and  smoke  of  that  desperate  grapple  of  the  infantry, 
I  have  lost  sight  of  the  incessant  cavalry  combats  which  marked 
each  day  with  blood. 

And  now  there  is  no  time  to  return  to  them.  A  great  and  som- 
bre event  drags  the  pen.  With  one  scene  I  shall  dismiss  those 
heroic  fights — but  that  scene  will  be  superb. 

Does  the  reader  remember  the  brave  Breathed,  commanding  a 
battalion  of  the  Stuart  horse  artillery  ?  I  first  spoke  of  him  on 
the  night  preceding  Chancellorsville,  when  he  came  to  see  Stuart, 
at  that  time  he  was  already  famous  for  his  "do-or-die  "  fighting. 
A  Marylander  by  birth,  he  had  "  come  over  to  help  us :"  had  been 
the  right-hand  man  of  Pelham ;  the  favorite  of  Stuart ;  the  admi- 
ration of  the  whole  army  for  a  courage  which  the  word  "  reck- 
less" best  describes ;— and  now,  in  this  May,  1864,  his  familiar 
name  of  "  Old  Jim  Breathed,"  bestowed  by  Stuart,  who  held  him 
in  high  favor,  had  become  the  synonym  of  stubborn  nerve  and 
elan,  unsurpassed  by  that  of  Murat.  To  fight  his  guns  to  the  muz- 
zles, or  go  in  with  the  sabre,  best  suited  Breathed.  A  veritable 
bull-dog  in  combat,  he  shrank  at  nothing,  and  led  everywhere.  I 
saw  brave  men  in  the  war — none  braver  than  Breathed.     When 


198  mohu:n'. 

he  failed  in  auy  tiling,  it  was  because  reckless  courage  could  not 
accomplish  it. 

He  was  young,  of  vigorous  frame,  with  dark  hair  and  eyes,  and 
tanned  by  sun  and  wind.  His  voice  was  low,  and  deep;  his  man- 
ners simple  and  unassuming;  his  ready  laugh  and  off-hand  bearing 
indicated  the  born  soldier ;  eyes  mild,  friendly,  and  full  of  hon- 
esty. It  was  only  when  Breathed  was  fighting  his  guns,  or  leading 
a  charge,  that  they  resembled  red-hot  coals,  and  seemed  to  flame. 

To  come  to  my  incident,  I  wish,  reader,  to  show  you  Breathed  ; 
to  let  you  see  the  whole  individual  in  a  single  exploit.  It  is  good 
to  record  things  not  recorded  in  "  history."  They  are,  after  all, 
the  real  glory  of  the  South — of  which  nothing  can  deprive  her. 
I  please  myself,  too,  for  Breathed  was  my  friend.  I  loved  and 
admired  him — and  only  a  month  or  two  before,  he  had  made  the 
whole  armv  admire — and  laugh  with — him  too. 

See  how  memory  leads  me  oif!  I  am  going  to  give  ten  words, 
first,  to  that  incident  which  made  us  laugh. 

In  the  last  davs  of  winter,  a  force  of  Federal  cavalrv  came  to 
make  an  attack  on  Charlottesville — crossing  the  Rapidan  high  up 
toward  the  mountains,  and  aiming  to  surprise  the  place.  Unfor- 
tunately for  him,  G-eneral  Custer,  who  commanded  the  expedition, 
was  to  find  the  Stuart  horse  artillery  in  winter  quarters  near. 
So  sudden  and  unexpected  was  Custer's  advance,  that  the  artillery 
camps  were  entirely  surprised.  At  one  moment,  the  men  were 
lying  down  in  their  tents,  dozing,  smoking,  laughing — the  horses 
turned  out  to  graze,  the  guns  covered,  a  profound  peace  reigning 
— at  the  next,  they  were  running  to  arms,  shouting,  and  in  con- 
fusion, with  the  blue  cavalry  charging  straight  on  their  tents, 
sabre  in  hand. 

Breathed  had  been  lounging  like  the  rest,  laughing  and  talking 
with  the  men.  Peril  made  him  suddenly  king,  and,  sabre  in 
hand,  he  rushed  to  the  guns,  calling  to  his  men  to  follow. 

With  his  own  hands  he  wheeled  a  gun  round,  drove  home  a 
charge,  and  trained  the  piece  to  bear  upon  the  Federal  cavalry, 
trampling  in  among  the  tents  within  fifty  yards  of  him. 

"Man  the  guns  I"  he  shouted,  in  his  voice  of  thunder.  "  Stand 
to  your  guns,  boys  I  You  promised  me  you  would  never  let  these 
guns  be  taken!" * 

*  His  "words. 


BREATHED    AND    HIS    GUN.  199 

A  roar  of  voices  answered  him.  The  bull-dogs  thrilled  at  the 
voice  of  the  master.  Suddenly  the  pieces  spouted  flame ;  shell 
and  canister  tore  through  the  Federal  ranks.  Breathed  was 
everywhere,  cheering  on  the  cannoneers.  Discharge  succeedeil 
discharge;  the  grouod  shook:  then  the  enemy  gave  back,  wa- 
vering and  losing  heart. 

Breathed  seized  the  moment.  Manv  of  the  horses  had  been 
caught  and  hastily  saddled.  Breathed  leaped  upon  one  of  them, 
and  shouted : — 

"Mount!" 

The  men  threw  themselves  into  the  saddle — some  armed  with 
sabres,  others  with  clubs,  others  with  pieces  of  fence-rail, 
caught  up  from  the  fires. 

"Charge!"  thundered  Breathed. 

And  at  the  head  of  his  men,  he  lead  a  headlong  charge  upon 
the  Federal  cavalry,  which  broke  and  fled  in  the  wildest  disorder, 
pursued  by  the  ragged  cannoneers,  Breathed  in  front,  with  yells, 
cheers,  and  cries  of  defiance. 

They  were  pursued  past  Barboursville  to  the  Eapidan,  without 
pause.  That  night  Stuart  went  after  them:  their  ofiicers  held  a 
council  of  war,  it  is  said,  to  decide  whether  they  should  not  bury 
tlieir  artillery  near  Stannardsville,  to  prevent  its  capture.  On  the 
day  after  this,  they  had  escaped. 

In  passing  Barboursville,  on  their  return  from  Charlottesville, 
one  of  the  Federal  troopers  stopped  to  get  a  drink  of  water  at 
the  house  of  a  citizen. 

"  "What's  the  matter  ?"  asked  the  citizen. 

"Well,  we  are  retreating." 

"  Who  is  after  you  ?" 

"  Nobody  but  old  Jim  Breathed  and  his  men,  armed  with  fence- 
rails."* 

Such  was  one  of  a  dozen  incidents  in  Breathed's  life.  Let  me 
come  to  that  which  took  place  near  Spottsylvania  Court-House. 

Grant  had  moved,  as  we  have  seen,  by  his  left  flank  toward 
that  place.  General  Fitzhugh  Lee  opposed  him  on  the  way,  and 
at  every  step  harassed  the  head  of  the  Federal  column  with  his 
dismounted  sharp-shooters  and  horse  artillery.   Near  Spottsylvania 

*  His  words. 

9 


200  MOHUN. 

Court-House,  it  was  the  stand  made  by  Fitz  Lee's  cavalry  that 
saved  the  position,  changing  the  aspect  of  the  whole  campaign. 

Sent  by  Stuart  with  a  message  to  the  brave  "  General  Fitz,"  I 
reached  him  near  Spottsylvania  Court-House,  at  the  moment 
when  he  had  just  ordered  his  cavalry  to  fall  back  slowly  before 
the  advancing  enemy,  and  take  a  new  position  in  rear. 

Two  guns  which  had  been  firing  on  the  enemy  were  still  in 
battery  on  a  hill ;  upon  these  a  heavy  Federal  skirmish  line  was 
steadily  moving:  and  beside  the  guns.  Breathed  and  Fitzhugh 
Lee  sat  their  horses,  looking  coolly  at  the  advancing  line. 

"  Give  them  a  round  of  canister,  Breathed !"  exclaimed  General 
Fitz  Lee. 

Breathed  obeved,  but  the  skirmish  line  continued  bravelv  to 
advance.  All  at  once,  there  appeared  in  the  woods  behind  them, 
a  regular  line  of  battle  advancing,  with  flags  fluttering. 

To  remain  longer  on  the  hill  was  to  lose  the  guns.  The  bullets 
were  whizzing  around  us,  and  there  was  but  one  course  left — to 
fall  back. 

"  Take  the  guns  off.  Breathed !"  exclaimed  the  general ;  "  there 
is  no  time  to  lose !  Join  the  command  in  the  new  position, 
farther  down  the  road  !" 

Breathed  looked  decidedly  unwilling. 

"  A  few  more  rounds,  general !" 

And  turning  to  the  men,  he  shouted  : — 

*'  Give  them  canister  !" 

At  the  word,  the  guns  spouted  flame,  and  the  canister  tore 
through  the  line  of  skirmishers,  and  the  Federal  line  of  battle  be- 
hind ;  but  it  did  not  check  them.  They  came  on.  more  rapidly, 
and  the  air  was  full  of  balls. 

"Look  out  for  the  guns,  Breathed!  Take  them  off  I"  ex- 
claimed the  general. 

Breathed  turned  toward  one  of  the  pieces,  and  ordered  : — 

"  Limber  to  the  rear !" 

The  order  was  quickly  obeyed. 

"Forward!" 

The  piece  went  off  at  a  thundering  gallop,  pursued  by  bullets. 

"Only  a  few  more  rounds,  general!"  pleaded  Breathed;  "I 
won't  lose  the  guns!" 


BREATHED    AND    HIS    GUN.  201 

"All  right!" 

As  he  spoke,  the  enemy  rushed  upon  the  single  gun. 

Breathed  replied  by  hurling  canister  in  their  faces.  He  sat  his 
horse,  unflinching.     Never  had  I  seen  a  more  superb  soldier. 

The  enemy  were  nearly  at  the  muzzle  of  the  piece. 

"  Surrender !"  they  were  heard  shouting ;  "  surrender  the 
gun!" 

Breathed's  response  was  a  roar,  which  hurled  back  the  front 
rank. 

Then,  his  form  towering  amid  the  smoke,  his  eyes  flashing,  his 
drawn  sabre  whirled  above  his  head.  Breathed  shouted, — 

"  Limber  up  !" 

The  cannoneers  seized  the  trail ;  the  horses  wheeled  at  a  gal- 
lop ;  the  piece  was  limbered  up  ;  and  the  men  rushed  down  the 
hill  to  mount  their  horses,  left  there. 

Then  around  the  gun  seemed  to  open  a  volcano  of  flame.  The 
Federal  infantry  were  right  on  it.  A  storm  of  bullets  cut  the 
air.  The  drivers  leaped  from  the  horses  drawing  the  piece, 
thinking  its  capture  inevitable,  and  ran  down  the  hill. 

In  all  instant  they  had  disappeared.  The  piece  seemed  in  the 
hands  of  the  enemy — indeed,  they  were  almost  touching  it — a  gun 
of  the  Stuart  horse  artillery  for  the  first  time  was  to  be  cap- 
tured I 

That  thought  seemed  to  turn  Breathed  into  a  giant.  As  the 
drivers  disappeared,  his  own  horse  was  shot  under  him,  staggered, 
sunk,  and  rolled  upon  his  rider.  Breathed  dragged  himself  from 
beneath  the  bleeding  animal,  rose  to  his  feet,  and  rushing  to  the 
lead  horses  of  the  gun,  leaped  upon  one  of  them,  and  struck  them 
violently  with  his  sabre  to  force  them  on. 

As  he  did  so,  the  horse  upon  which  he  was  mounted  fell, 
pierced  by  a  bullet  through  the  body. 

Breathed  fell  upon  his  feet,  and,  with  the  edge  of  his  sabre, 
cut  the  two  leaders  out  of  the  traces.  He  then  leaped  upon  one 
of  the  middle  horses — the  gun  being  drawn  by  six — and  started  oflf. 

He  had  not  gone  three  paces,  when  the  animal  which  he  now 
rode  fell  dead  in  turn.  Breathed  rolled  upon  the  ground,  but 
rising  to  his  feet,  severed  the  dead  animal  and  his  c-ompanion 
from  the  piece,  as  he  had  done  the  leaders. 


202  MOnUN. 

He  then  leaped  upon  one  of  the  wheel-horses — these  alone  be- 
ing novv  left — struck  them  furiously  with  his  sabre — started  at  a 
thundering  gallop  down  the  hill — and  pursued  by  a  hail-storra  of 
bullets,  from  which,  as  General  Lee  says  in  his  report,  ''he  mi- 
raculously escaped  unharmed,"  carried  off  the  gun  in  safety,  and 
rejoined  the  cavalry,  greeted  by  a  rolling  thunder  of  cheers. 

Such  was  the  manner  in  which  Breathed  fouglit  his  artillery, 
and  the  narrative  is  the  barest  and  most  simple  statement  of  fact. 

Breathed  came  out  of  the  war  a  lieutenant-colonel  only.  Na- 
poleon would  have  made  him  a  marshal. 


XXXIV. 

MY  LAST  RIDE  WITH  STUART. 

MoEE  than  one  stirring  incident  marked  those  days  of  desper- 
ate fighting,  when,  barricading  all  the  roads,  and  charging  reck- 
lessly, Stuart  opposed,  at  every  step,  Grant's  advance  toward 
the  Po. 

But  I  can  not  describe  those  incidents.  They  must  be  left  to 
others.  The  pen  w^hich  has  paused  to  record  that  exploit  of 
Breathed,  is  drawn  onward  as  by  the  hand  of  Fate  toward  one  of 
those  scenes  which  stand  out,  lugubrious  and  bloody,  from  the 
pages  of  history. 

From  the  moment  when  Grant  crossed  the  Rapidan,  Stuart  had 
met  the  horsemen  of  Sheridan  everywhere  in  bitter  conflict ;  and 
the  days  and  nights  had  been  strewed  all  over  with  battles. 

2^ow,  on  the  ninth  of  May,  when  the  two  great  adversaries 
faced  each  other  on  the  Po,  a  more  arduous  service  still  was 
demanded  of  the  great  sabreur.  Sheridan  had  been  dispatched  to 
sever  General  Lee's  communications,  and,  if  possible,  capture 
Richmond.  The  city  was  known  to  be  well  nigh  stripped  of 
troops,  and  a  determined  assault  might  result  in  its  fall.  Sheri- 
dan accordingly  cut  loose  a  heavy  column,  took  command  of  it  in 


MY    LAST    RIDE    WITH    STUART.        203 

person,   and  descended  like  a  thunderbolt  toward  the  devoted 

city. 

Kg  sooner,  however,  had  he  begun  to  move,  than  Stuart  fol- 
lowed on  his  track.  He  had  no  difficulty  in  doing  so.  A  great 
dust-cloud  told  the  story.  That  cloud  hung  above  the  long  col- 
umn of  Federal  cavalry,  accompanied  it  wherever  it  moved,  and 
indicated  clearly  to  Stuart  the  course  which  his  adversary  was 
pursuing. 

If  he  could /)nly  interpose,  with  however  small  a  force,  between 
Sheridan  and  Richmond,  time  vs^ould  be  given  for  preparation  to 
resist  the  attack,  and  the  capital  might  be  saved.  If  he  failed  to 
interpose,  Sheridan   would    accomplish    his    object— Richmond 

would  fall. 

It  was  a  forlorn  hope,  after  all,  that  he  could  arrest  the  Fed- 
eral commander.  General  Sheridan  took  with  him  a  force  es- 
timated at  9,000.  Stuart's  was,  in  all,  about  3,000;  Gordon, 
who  was  not  in  the  battle  at  Yellow  Tavern,  included.  That 
action  was  fought  by  Fitz  Lee's  division  of  2,400  men  all  told. 
But  the  men  and  officers  were  brave  beyond  words ;  the  incentive 
to  daring  resistance  was  enormous  ;  they  would  do  all  that  could 
be  done. 

Such  was  the  situation  of  affairs  on  the  9th  of  May,  1864. 

Stuart  set  out  at  full  gallop  on  his  iron  gray,  from  Spottsyl- 
vania  Court-House,  about  three  o'clock  in  the  day,  and  reached 
Chilesburg,  toward  Hanover  Junction,  just  as  night  fell. 

Here  we  found  General  Fitz  Lee  engaged  in  a  hot  skirmish 
with  thf)  enemy's  rear-guard ;  and  that  night  Stuart  planned  an 
attack  upon  their  camp,  but  abandoned  the  idea. 

His  spirits  at  this  time  were  excellent,  but  it  was  easy  to  see 
that  he  realized  the  immense  importance  of  checking  the  enemy. 

An  officer  said  in  his  presence  : — 

"  We  won't  be  able  to  stop  Sheridan." 

Stuart  turned  at  those  words ;  his  cheeks  flushed ;  his  eyes 
flamed,  and  he  said  : — 

"  No,  sir !     I'd  rather  die  than  let  him  go  on  !"* 

On  the  next  morning,  he  moved  in  the  direction  of  Hanover 
Junction ;  riding  boot  to  boot  with  his  friend  General  Fitz  Lee. 

*  His  words. 


204  MOHUN. 

I  had  never  seen  him  more  jovons.  Some  events  engrave  them- 
selves forever  on  the  memory.  That  ride  of  ]May  10th,  1864-,  was 
one  of  them. 

Have  human  beings  a  presentiment,  ever,  at  the  near  approneh 
of  death  ?  Does  the  shadow  of  the  unseen  hand  ever  reveal  itself 
to  the  eye?  I  know  not,  but  I  know  that  no  such  presentiment 
came  to  Stuart ;  no  shadow  of  the  coming  event  darkened  the 
path  of  the  great  cavalier.  On  the  contrary,  his  spirits  were 
buoyant  beyond  example,  almost;  and,  riding  on. with  General 
Fitz  Lee,  he  sang  in  his  gallant  voice  his  favorite  ditties  "Come 
out  of  the  Wilderness!"  and  " Jine  the  Cavalry!" 

As  he  rode  on  thus,  he  was  the  beau  ideal  of  a  cavalier.  His 
seat  in  the  saddle  was  firm;  his  blue  eyes  dazzling;  his  heavy 
mustache  curled  with  laughter  at  the  least  provocation.  Some- 
thing in  this  man  seemed  to  spring  forward  to  meet  danger. 
Peril  aroused  and  strung  liim.  All  his  energies  were  stimulated 
by  it.  In  that  ride  tlirougli  the  May  forest,  to  attack  Sheridan, 
and  arrest  him  or  die,  Stuart's  bearing  and  expression  were  su- 
perbly joyous  and  inspiring.  His  black  plume  floated  in  the 
spring  breeze,  like  some  knight-errant's ;  and  he  went  to  battle 
humming  a  song,  resolved  to  conquer  or  fall. 

Riding  beside  him,  I  found  my  eyes  incessantly  attracted  to  his 
proud  face ;  and  now  I  see  the  great  cavalier  as  then,  clearly  with 
the  eyes  of  memory.  What  a  career  had  been  his !  w^hat  a  life 
of  battles ! 

As  we  went  on  through  the  spring  woods,  amid  the  joyous  songs 
of  birds,  all  the  long,  hard  combats  of  this  man  passed  before  me 
like  an  immense  panorama.  The  ceaseless  scouting  and  fighting 
in  the  Shenandoah  Yaller  ;  the  charge  and  route  of  the  red- 
legged  "Zouaves'^  at  Manassas;  the  falling  back  to  the  Penin- 
sula, and  tlie  fighting  all  through  Charles  City  ;  the  famous  ride 
around  McClellan  ;  the  advance  and  combats  on  the  Rapidau  and 
Rappahanock,  after  Cedar  Mountain ;  the  night  attack  on  Cat- 
lett's,  when  he  captured  Pope's  coat  and  papers;  the  march  on 
Jackson's  flank,  and  the  capture  of  Manassas  ;  the  advance  into 
Maryland;  the  fights  at  Frederick,  Crampton's,  and  Boonsboro', 
with  the  hard  rear-guard  work,  as  Lee  retired  to  Sharpsburg; 
his  splendid  handling  of  artillery  on  the  left  wing  of  the  army 


MY    LAST    RIDE    WITH    STUART.        205 

there ;  the  retreat,  covered  by  his  cavah*y ;  tlie  second  ride 
aroiind  McClellan,  and  safe  escape  from  his  clutches  ;  the  bitter 
conflicts  at  Upperville  and  Barbee's,  as  Lee  fell  back;  the  hard 
fighting  thereafter,  on  the  banks  of  the  Rappahannock;  the 
" crowding 'em  with  artillery,"  on  the  night  of  Fredericksburg; 
the  winter  march  to  Dumfries;  the  desperate  battle  at  Kelly's 
Ford  ;  the  falling  back  before  Hooker;  the  battle  of  Chancellors - 
ville,  when  he  succeeded  Jackson ;  the  stubborn  wrestle  of  Fleet- 
wood; the  war  of  giants  below  Upperville;  the  advance  across 
Maryland  into  Pennsylvania,  when  the  long  march  was  strewed 
all  over  with  battles,  at  Westminister,  Hanover,  Carlisle,  Gettys- 
burg, where  he  met  and  repulsed  the  best  cavalry  of  the  Federal 
army ;  the  retreat  from  Gettysburg,  wnth  the  tough  affair  near 
Boonsboro' ;  guarding  the  rear  of  the  army  as  it  again  crossed  the 
Potomac;  then  the  campaign  of  October,  ending  with  Kilpatrick's 
route  at  Buckland  ;  the  assault  on  Meade's  head  of  column,  when 
he  came  over  to  Mine  Run ;  the  bold  attack  on  his  rear  there ; 
and  the  hard,  incessant  fighting  since  Grant  had  come  over  to  the 
Wilderness; — I  remembered  all  these  splendid  scenes  and  illus- 
trious services  as  I  rode  on  beside  Stuart,  through  the  fields  and 
forests  of  Hanover,  and  thought,  ''This  is  one  of  those  great 
figures  which  live  forever  in  history,  and  men's  memories!" 

To-day,  I  know  that  I  was  not  mistaken,  or  laboring  under  the 
influence  of  undue  affection  and  admiration.  That  figure  has 
passed  from  earth,  but  still  lives ! 

Stuart  is  long  dead,  and  the  grass  covers  him;  but  there  is 
scarce  a  foot  of  the  soil  of  Virginia  that  does  not  speak  of  him. 
He  is  gone,  but  his  old  motlier  is  proud  of  him — is  she  not? 

Answer,  mountains  where  he  fought — lowlands,  where  he  fell 
— river,  murmuring  a  dirge,  as  you  foam  through  the  rocks  yon- 
der, past  his  grave  ! 


206  MOnUN. 


XXXV. 

"SOOX    WITH  ANGELS    I'LL    BE   MAKCHIXG." 

Let  me  rapidly  pass  over  the  events  of  the  tenth  of  May. 

Gordon's  little  brigade  had  been  ordered  to  follow  on  the  rear 
of  the  enemy,  -while  Fitz  Leo  moved  round  by  Taylorsville  to  get 
in  front  of  them. 

Stuart  rode  and  met  Gordon,  gave  the  brave  Xorth  Carolin- 
ian, so  soon  to  fan,  his  last  orders  ;  and  then  hastened  back  to  Fitz 
Lee,  who  had  continued  to  press  the  enemy. 

They  had  struck  the  Central  railroad,  but  the  gray  cavaliers 
were  close  on  them.  Colonel  Robert  Randolph,  that  brave  soul, 
doomed  like  Gordon,  charged  them  furiously  here,  took  nearly  a 
hundred  prisoners,  and  drove  them  across  the  road. 

At  this  moment  Stuart  returned,  and  pushed  forward  toward 
Taylorsville,  from  which  point  he  intended  to  hasten  on  and  get  in 
their  front. 

About  four  in  the  afternoon  we  reached  Fork  church,  and  the 
command  halted  to  rest. 

Stuart  stretched  himself  at  full  length,  surrounded  by  his  staff, 
in  a  field  of  clover;  and  placing  his  hat  over  his  face  to  protect 
his  eyes  from  the  light,  snatched  a  short  sleep,  of  which  he  was 
very  greatly  in  need. 

The  column  again  moved,  and  that  night  camped  near  Taylors- 
ville, awaiting  the  work  of  the  morrow. 

At  daylight  on  the  11th,  Stuart  moved  toward  Ashland.  Here 
he  came  up  with  the  enemy ;  attacked  them  furiously,  and  drove 
them  before  him,  and  out  of  the  village,  killing,  wounding,  and 
capturing  a  considerable  number. 

Then  he  put  his  column  again  in  motion,  advanced  rapidly  by 
the  Telegraph  road  toward  Yellow  Tavern,  a  point  near  Rich- 
mond, where  he  intended  to  intercept  the  enemy — the  moment 
of  decisive  struggle,  to  which  all  the  fighting  along  the  roads  of 
Hanover  had  only  been  the  prelude,  was  at  hand. 

Stuart  was  riding  at  the  head  of  his  column,  lookiLg  straight 


YELLOW    TAVERN".  207 

forward,  and  with  no  thought,  apparently,  save  that  of  arriving  in 
time. 

He  was  no  longer  gay,  TTas  it  the  coming  event ;  was  it  the 
loss  of  sleep  ;  the  great  interest  at  stake  ;  the  terrible  struggle  be- 
fore him?  I  know  not;  but  he  looked  anxious,  feverish,  almost 
melancholy. 

"My  men  and  horses  are  tired,  jaded,  and  hungry,  but  all 
right,"  he  had  written  to  General  Bragg,  from  Ashland. 

And  these  words  will  serve  in  large  measure  to  describe  the 
condition  of  the  great  commander  himself. 

I  was  riding  beside  him,  when  he  turned  to  me  and  said,  in  a 
low  tone:  — 

"  Do  you  remember  a  conversation  which  we  had  at  Orange, 
Surry,  that  night  in  my  tent?" 

"Yes,  general." 

"And  what  I  said?" 

"Every  word  is  engraved,  I  think,  upon  my  memory." 

"Good.  Do  not  let  one  thing  ever  escape  you.  Kemember, 
that  I  said  what  I  say  again  to-day,  that  '  Virginia  expects  every 
man  to  do  his  duty  !'  " 

"I  will  never  forget  that,  general," 

He  smiled,  and  rode  on.  For  half  a  mile  he  was  silent.  Then 
I  heard  escape  from  his  lips,  in  a  low,  musing  voice,  a  refrain 
which  I  had  never  heard  him  sing  before — 

"Soon  with  angels  FU  be  marching!"  * 

I  know  not  why,  but  that  low  sound  made  me  shiver. 


XXXVI. 

YELLOW   TAVERN,   MAY   11,   1864. 

Yellow  Taveen  !  At  the  mention  of  that  name,  a  sort  of 
tremor  agitates  me  even  to-day,  when  nearly  four  years  have 
passed. 

*  Eeal. 
9* 


208  MOnUN. 

In  my  eyes,  the  locality  is  cursed.  A  gloomy  cloud  seems  ever 
hanging  over  it.  Ko  birds  sing  in  the  trees.  Tlie  very  sunshine 
of  the  summer  days  is  sad  there. 

But  I  pass  to  my  brief  description  of  the  place,  and  the  event 
which  made  it  one  of  the  black  names  in  Southern  history. 

Yellow  Tavern  is  an  ohl  dismantled  hostelry,  on  the  Brook 
road,  about  six  miles  from  Richmond.  Nothing  more  dreary 
than  this  desolate  wayside  inn  can  be  imagined.  Its  doors  stand 
open,  its  windows  are  gone,  the  rotting  floor  crumbles  beneath 
the  heel,  and  the  winds  moan  through  the  paneless  sashes,  like  in- 
visible spirits  hovering  near  and  muttering  some  lugubrious 
secret.  "This  is  the  scene  of  some  deed  of  darkness!"  you  are 
tempted  to  mutter,  as  you  place  your  feet  upon  the  threshold. 
Wlien  you  leave  the  spot  behind  you,  a  weight  seems  lifted  from 
your  breast — you  breathe  freer. 

Such  was  the  Yellow  Tavern  when  I  went  there  in  the  spring 
of  1864.  Is  it  different  to-day?  Do  human  beings  laugh  there  ? 
I  know  not ;  but  I  know  that  nothing  could  make  it  cheerful  in 
my  eyes.     It  was,  and  is,  and  ever  will  be,  a  thing  accursed! 

For  the  military  reader,  however,  a  few  words  in  reference  to 
the  topographical  features  of  the  locality  are  necessary. 

Yellow  Tavern  is  at  the  forks  of  the  Telegraph  and  Mountain 
roads,  six  miles  from  Richmond.  Tlie  Telegraph  road  runs 
north  and  south — over  this  road  Stuart  marched.  The  Mountain 
road  comes  into  it  from  the  nortliwest.  By  this  road  Sheridan 
was  coming. 

Open  the  left  hand,  with  the  palm  upward  ;  the  index  finger 
pointing  north.  The  thumb  is  the  Mountain  road ;  the  index- 
finger  the  Telegraph  road  ;  where  the  thumb  joins  tlie  hand  is  tlie 
Yellow  Tavern  in  open  fields;  and  Richmond  is  at  the  wrist. 

Toward  the  head  of  the  thumb  is  a  wood.  Here  Wickham, 
commanding  Stuart's  right,  was  placed,  his  line  facing  the  Moun- 
tain road  so  as  to  strike-  the  approaching  enemy  In  flank. 

From  Wickham's  left,  or  near  it,  Stuart's  left  wing,  under 
Lomax,  extended  along  the  Telegraph  road  to  the  Tavern — the 
two  lines  thus  forming  an  obtuse  angle. 

On  a  hil],  near  Lomax's  right,  was  Breathed  with  his  guns. 

The  object  of  this  disposition  of  Stuart's  force  will  be  seen  at 


YELLOW    TAVERN.  9o3 

a  glance.  Lomax,  commanding  the  left,  was  across  the  enemy's 
front;  Wickham,  commanding  the  right,  was  on  their  flank;  and 
the  artillery  was  so  posted  as  to  sweep  at  once  the  front  of  both 
Stuart's  wings. 

The  enemy's  advance  would  bring  them  to  the  first  joint  of 
the  thumb.  There  they  would  receive  Lomax's  fire  in  front; 
"Wickham's  in  flank;  and  Breathed's  transversely.  The  cross  fire 
on  that  point,  over  which  the  enemy  must  pass,  would  be  deadly. 
Take  a  pencil,  reader,  and  draw  the  diagram,  and  lines  of  fire. 
That  will  show  Stuart's  excellent  design. 

Stuart  had  reached  Yellow  Tavern,  and  made  his  dispositions 
before  the  arrival  of  Sheridan,  who  was,  nevertheless,  rapidly 
advancing  by  the  Mountain  road.  Major  McClellan,  adjutant- 
general,  had  been  sent  to  General  Bragg,  with  a  suggestion  that 
the  latter  should  attack  from  the  direction  of  the  city,  at  the 
moment  when  the  cavalry  assailed  the  Federal  flank.  All  was 
ready. 

It  was  the  morning  of  May  11th,  1864. 

Never  was  scene  more  beautiful  and  inspiring.  The  men  were 
jaded,  like  their  horses;  but  no  heart  shrank  from  the  coming 
encounter.  Stretching  in  a  thin  line  from  the  tavern  into  the 
woods  on  the  right  of  the  Mountain  road,  the  men  sat  their 
horses,  with  drawn  sabres  gleaming  in  the  sun ;  and  the  red 
battle-flags  waved  proudly  in  the  fresh  May  breeze,  as  though 
saluting  Stuart,  who  rode  in  front  of  them. 

Such  was  the  scene  at  Yellow  Tavern.  The  moment  had 
come.  At  about  eight,  a  stifled  hum,  mixed  with  the  tramp  of 
hoofs,  was  heard.  Then  a  courier  came  at  a  gallop,  from  the  right, 
to  Stuart.     The  enemy  were  in  sight,  and  advancing  rapidly. 

Stuart  was  sitting  his  horse  near  Yellow  Tavern  when  that 
intelligence  reached  him.  He  rose  in  his  saddle,  took  his  field- 
glasses  from  their  leathern  case,  and  looked  through  them  in  the 
direction  of  the  woods  across  the  Mountain  road. 

Suddenly,  quick  firing  came  on  the  wind — then,  loud  shours. 
Stuart  lowered  liis  glasses,  shut  them  up,  replaced  them  in  their 
case,  and  drew  his  sabre. 

Never  had  I  seen  him  present  an  appearance  more  superb. 
His  head  was  carried  proudly  erect,  his  black  plume  floated,  his 


210  MOIIUN. 

l)lue  ejes  flashed — he  was  the  heau  ideal  of  a  soldier,  and  as  one 
of  his  bravest  officers*  afterward  said  to  me,  looked  as  if  he  luid 
resolved  on  "  victory  or  death."  I  had  seem  him  often  aroused 
and  strung  for  action.  On  this  morning  he  seemed  on  lire,  and 
resembled  a  veritable  king  of  battle. 

Suddenly,  the  skirmish  line  of  the  enemy  appeared  in  front  of 
the  woods,  and  a  quick  fire  was  opened  on  Stuart's  sharp-shooters 
under  Colonel  Pate,  in  the  angle  of  the  two  roads ;  Stuart 
hastened  to  take  the  real  initiative.  He  posted  two  guns  on  a 
rising  ground  in  the  angle,  and  opened  a  heavy  fire ;  and  galled 
by  this  fire,  the  enemy  suddenly  made  a  determined  charge  upon 
the  guns. 

Stuart  rose  in  his  stirrups  and  gazed  coolly  at  the  heavy  line 
advancing  upon  him,  and  forcing  Pate's  handful  back. 

"Take  back  the  guns!"  he  said. 

They  were  limbered  up,  and  went  off  rapidly. 

At  the  same  moment  Colonel  Pate  appeared,  his  men  obsti- 
nately contesting  every  foot  of  ground  as  they  fell  back  toward 
the  Telegraph  road,  where  a  deep  cut  promised  them  advantage. 

Colonel  Pate  was  a  tall,  fair-liaired  oflk-er,  with  a  ready  smile, 
and  a  cordial  bearing.  He  and  Stuart  had  bitterly  quarrelled,  and 
the  general  had  court-martialed  the  colonel.  It  is  scarcely  too 
much  to  say  that  they  had  been  deadly  enemies. 

For  the  first  time  now,  since  their  collision,  they  met.  But  on 
this  day  their  enmity  seemed  dead.  The  two  men  about  to  die 
grasped  each  other's  hands. 

"  They  are  pressing  you  back,  colonel!"  exclaimed  Stuart. 

"  Yes,  general,  I  have  but  three  skeleton  squadrons  !  and  you 
see  their  force." 

"  You  are  right.  You  have  done  all  that  any  man  could.  Can 
you  hold  this  cut?" 

"  I  will  try,  general." 

Their  glances  crossed.     I^Tever  was  Stuart's  face  kinder. 

"  If  you  say  you  will,  you  will  do  it  1  Hold  this  position  to  the 
last,  colonel." 

"I'll  hold  it  until  I  die,  general."  t 

*  Breathed.  t  His  words. 


YELLOW    TAVERX.  211 

"With  a  pressure  of  the  hand  they  parted. 

Fifteen  minutes  afterward,  Pate  was  dead.  Attacked  at  once 
in  front  and  on  both  flanks  in  the  road,  his  little  force  had  been 
cnt  to  pieces.  He  fell  with  three  of  his  captains,  and  his  handful 
were  scattered. 

Stuart  witnessed  all,  and  his  eye  grew  fiery. 

''Pate  has  died  the  death  of  a  hero!"  *  he  exclaimed. 

"  Order  Wickham  to  dismount  his  brigade,  and  attack  on  tlie 
right!"  he  added  to  Lieutenant  Garnett,  aid-de-carap. 

Twenty  minutes  afterward,  Wickham's  men  were  seen  advanc- 
ing, and  driving  the  enemy  before  them.  This  relieved  the  left, 
and  "Wickham  continued  to  push  on  until  he  struck  up  against  a 
heavy  line  behind  rail  breastworks  in  the  woods. 

He  then  fell  back,  and  each  side  remained  motionless,  awaiting 
the  movement  of  the  other. 

Such  was  the  preface  to  the  real  battle  of  Yellow  Tavern, — 
the  species  of  demonstration  which  preluded  the  furious  grapple. 

Stuart's  melancholy  had  all  vanished.  He  was  in  splendid 
si)irits.  He  hastened  back  his  artillery  to  the  point  from  which  it 
had  been  driven,  and  soon  its  defiant  roar  was  heard  rising  above 
the  woods. 

At  the  same  moment  a  courier  galloped  up. 

""What  news?" 

"A  dispatch  from  Gordon,  general. 

Stuart  took  it  and  read  it  with  high  good  humor. 

"  Gordon  has  had  a  handsome  little  affair  this  m(5rning,"  he 
said  ;    "  he  has  whipped  them." 

And  looking  toward  the  northwest — 

"I  wish  Gordon  was  here,"  *  he  said. 

The  guns  continued  to  roar,  and  the  enemy  had  not  again  ad- 
vanced.    It  was  nearly  four  o'clock.     Night  approached. 

But  the  great  blow  was  coming. 

Stuart  was  sitting  his  horse  near  the  guns,  with  Breathed  be- 
side him.  Suddenly  the  edge  of  the  woods  on  the  Mountain  road 
swarmed  with  blue  horsemen.  As  they  appeared,  the  long  lines 
of  sabres  darted  from  the  scabbards;  then  they  rushed  like  a 
hurricane  toward  the  guns. 

*  His  words. 


2j2  MOHUN. 

Tlie  attack  was  so  sudden  and  overpowering,  that  nothing  could 
stand  before  it.  For  a  short  time  the  men  fought  desperately, 
crossing  sabres  and  using  their  pistols.  But  the  enemy's  numbers 
were  too  great.  The  left  was  driven  back.  AVith  triumphant 
cheers,  the  Federal  troopers  pressed  upon  them  to  drive  them 
completely  from  the  field. 

Suddenly,  as  the  men  fell  back,  Stuart  appeared,  with  drawn 
sabre,  among  them,  calling  upon  them  to  rally.  Ilis  voice  rose 
above  the  fire,  and  a  wild  cheer  greeted  him. 

The  men  rallied,  the  enemy  were  met  again,  sabre  to  sabre,  and 
the  field  became  a  scene  of  the  most  desperate  conflict. 

Stuart  led  every  charge.  I  shall  never  forget  the  appearance 
which  he  presented  at  that  moment;  with  one  hand  he  controlled 
his  restive  horee,  with  the  other  he  grasped  his  sabre ;  in  his 
cheeks  burned  the  hot  blood  of  the  soldier. 

"Breathed  !"  he  exclaimed. 

"General!" 

"Take  command  of  all  the  mounted  men  in  the  road,  and  hold 
it  against  whatever  may  come  !    If  this  road  is  lost,  we  aregone !"  * 

Breathed  darted  to  the  head  of  the  men  and  shouted  : — 

"Follow  me!" 

His  sword  flashed  lightning,  and  digging  the  spur  into  his 
horse,  he  darted  ahead  of  the  column,  disappearing  in  the  middle 
of  a  swarm  of  enemies. 

A  superb  sight  followed.  Breathed  was  seen  in  the  midst  of 
the  Federal  cavalry  defending  himself,  with  pistol  and  sabre, 
against  the  blows  which  were  aimed  at  him  on  every  side. 

He  cut  one  ofllcer  out  of  the  saddle ;  killed  a  lieutenant  with 
a  pistol  ball;  was  shot  slightly  in  the  side,  and  a  sabre  stroke 
laid  open  his  head.  But  five  minutes  afterward  he  was  seen  to 
clear  a  path  with  his  sabre,  and  reappear,  streaming  with  blood, f 

The  momentary  repulse  ettected  nothing.  The  enemy  re-formed 
their  line,  and  again  charged  the  guns,  which  were  pouring  a 
heavy  fire  upon  them.  As  they  rushed  forward,  the  hoofs  of 
their  horses  shook  the  ground  A  deafening  cheer  arose  from 
the  blue  line. 

*  His  words. 

t  This  incident,  like  all  here  related  as  attending  this  battle,  Is  rigidly  true. 


YELLOW     TAVEEX.  213 

Stnart  was  looking  at  them,  and  spurred  out  in  front  of  the 
guns.  His  eyes  flashed,  and,  taking  off  his  brown  felt  hat,  he 
waved  it  and  cheered. 

Then  he  wheeled  to  take  command  of  a  column  of  Lomax's 
men,  coming  to  meet  the  charge. 

They  were  too  late.  In  a  moment  the  enemy  Avere  trampling 
among  the  guns.  x\.ll  but  one  were  captured,  and  that  piece  was 
saved  only  by  the  terror  of'the  drivers.  They  lashed  their  horses 
into  a  gallop,  and  rushed  toward  the  Chickahominy,  followed  by 
the  cannoneers  who  were  cursing  them,  and  shouting  : — 

"For  God's  sake,  boys,  let's  go  back !  They've  got  Breathed  ! 
Let's  go  back  to  him  !"* 

That  terror  of  the  drivers,  which  the  cannoneers  cursed  so  bit- 
terly, ended  all.  The  gun,  whirling  on  at  wild  speed,  suddenly 
struck  against  the  head  of  the  column  advancing  to  meet  the 
enemy.  A  war-engine  hurled  against  it  could  not  have  more 
effectually  broken  it.  Before  it  could  re-form  the  enemy  had 
struck  it,  forced  it  back ;  and  then  the  whole  Federal  force  of 
cavalry  was  hurled  upon  Stuart. 

His  right,  where  Fitz  Lee  commanded  in  person,  was  giviiig 
back.  His  left  was  broken  and  driven.  The  day  was  evidently 
lost ;  and  Stuart,  with  a  sort  of  desperation,  rushed  into  the 
midst  of  the  enemy,  calling  upon  his  men  to  rally,  and  firing  his 
pistol  in  the  faces  of  the  Federal  cavalrymen. 

Suddenly,  one  of  them  darted  past  him  toward  the  rear,  and 
as  he  did  so,  placed  his  pistol  nearly  on  Stuart's  body,  and  fired. 

As  the  man  disappeared  in  the  smoke,  Stuart's  hand  went 
quickly  to  his  side,  he  reeled  in  the  saddle,  and  would  have  fallen 
had  not  Captain  Dorsay,  of  the  First  Virginia  Cavalry,  caught  him 
in  his  arms. 

The  bullet  had  passed  through  his  side  into  the  stomach,  and 
wounded  him  mortally.  In  its  passage,  it  just  grazed  a  small 
Bible  in  his  pocket.  The  Bible  was  the  gift  of  his  mother — but 
the  Almighty  had  decreed  that  it  should  not  turn  the  fatal  bullet. 

Stuart's  immense  vitality  sustained  him  for  a  moment.  Pale, 
and  tottering  in  the  saddle,  he  still  surveyed  the  field,  and  called 
on  the  men  to  rally. 

*  Their  words. 


214  MOHUN. 

"Go  back,"  he  exclaimed,  "and  do  your  dutj,  as  I  Iiave  done 
mine  !     And  our  country  will  be  safe  !"  * 

A  moment  afterward  he  called  out  again  to  the  men  passing 
him  : — 

"  Go  back  !  go  back  !     I'd  rather  die  than  be  whipped  I"  * 

The  old  lightning  flashed  from  his  eyes  as  he  spoke.  Then  a 
mist  passed  over  them  ;  his  head  sank  upon  his  breast ;  and,  still 
supported  in  the  saddle,  he  was  led  through  the  woods  toward 
the  Chickahominv. 

Suddenly,  Fitzhugh  Lee,  who  had  been  stubbornly  fighting  on 
the  right,  galloped  up,  and  accosted  Stuart.  His  face  was  flushed, 
his  eyes  moist. 

"You  are  wounded  I"  he  exclaimed. 

"Badly,"  Stuart  replied,  "but  look  out,  Fitz !  Yonder  they 
come !" 

A  glance  showed  all.  In  the  midst  of  a  wild  uproar  of  clashing 
sabres,  quick  shots,  and  resounding  cries,  the  Federal  cavalry 
w'ere  rushing  forward  to  overwhelm  the  disordered  lines. 

Stuart's  eye  flashed  for  the  last  time.  Turning  to  General 
Fitzhugh  Lee,  he  exclaimed  in  a  full,  sonorous  voice  : — 

"  Go  ahead,  Fitz,  old  fellow !  I  know  you  will  do  what  is 
right  I"* 

This  was  the  last  order  he  ever  gave  upon  the  field.  As  he 
spoke,  his  head  sank,  his  eyes  closed,  and  he  was  borne  toward 
the  rear. 

There  was  scarcely  time  to  save  him  from  capture.  His 
wound  seemed  to  have  been  the  signal  for  his  lines  to  break. 
They  had  now  given  way  everywhere — the  enemy  were  pressing 
them  with  loud  shouts.  Fighting  with  stubborn  desperation, 
they  fell  back  toward  the  Chickahominy,  which  they  crossed, 
hotly  pressed  by  the  victorious  enemy. 

Stuart  had  been  placed  in  an  ambulance  and  borne  across  the 
stream,  where  Dr.  Randolph  and  Dr.  Fontaine  made  a  brief  ex- 
amination of  his  wound.  It  was  plainly  mortal — but  he  was 
hastily  driven,  by  way  of  Mechanicsville,  into  Richmond. 

His  hard  fighting  had  saved  the  city.  "When  Sheridan  attacked, 
he  was  repulsed. 

*  His  ■words. 


YELLOW    TAVERN.  215 

But  the  capital  was  clearly  purchased.  Twenty-four  hours 
afterward  Stnart  was  dead  . 

The  end  of  the  great  cavalier  had  been  as  serene  as  his  life  was 
stormy.  His  death  was  that  of  the  Christian  warrior,  who  bows 
to  the  will  of  God,  and  accepts  whatever  His  loving  hand  decrees 
for  hira. 

He  asked  repeatedly  that  his  favorite  hymns  should  be  sung  for 
him  ;  and  when  President  Davis  visited  him,  and  asked : — 

"General,  how  do  you  feel?" 

"Easy,  but  willing  to  die,"  he  said,  "if  God  and  my  country 
think  I  have  fulfilled  my  destiny,  and  done  my  duty."* 

As  night  came,  he  requested  his  physician  to  inform  him  if  he 
thought  he  would  live  till  morning.  The  physician  replied  that 
his  death  was  rapidly  approaching,  when  he  faintly  bowed  his 
head,  and  murmured  : — ■ 

"  I  am  resigned,  if  it  be  God's  will.  I  should  like  to  see  my 
wife,  but  God's  will  be  done."  * 

When  the  proposed  attack  upon  Sheridan,  near  Mechanicsville, 
was  spoken  of  in  his  presence,  he  said  : — 

"  God  grant  that  it  may  be  successfull    I  wish  I  could  be  there."  '^ 

Turning  his  face  toward  tlie  pillow,  he  added,  with  tears  in  his 
eyes,  "  but  I  must  prepare  for  another  world,"  * 

Feeling  now  that  his  end  was  near,  he  made  his  last  dispositions. 

"  You  will  find  in  my  hat,"  he  said  to  a  member  of  his  staff,  "  a 
little  Confederate  flag,  which  a  lady  of  Columbia,  South  Carolina, 
sent  me,  requesting  that  I  would  wear  it  on  my  horse  in  battle, 
and  return  it  to  her.     Send  it  to  her."  * 

He  gave  then  the  name  of  the  lady,  and  added  : — 

"My  spurs — those  always  worn  in  battle — I  promised  to  give  to 
Mrs.  Lily  Le^e,  at  Shepherdstown.     My  sabre  I  leave  to  ray  son."  * 

His  horses  and  equipments  were  then  given  to  his  staff — his 
papers  directed  to  be  sent  to  his  wife. 

A  prayer  was  then  offered  by  the  minister  at  his  bedside :  his 
lips  moved  as  he  repeated  the  words.  As  the  prayer  ended  he 
murmured  : — 

"  I  am  going  fast  now — I  am  resigned.    God's  will  be  done!"  * 

As  the  words  escaped  from  his  lips,  he  expired. 

*  His  ■words. 


216  MOHUN. 


BOOK   III. 

BEHIXD     THE     SCENES. 


I. 

^HAT  I   DID   XOT  SEE. 

I  WAS  not  at  Stuarfs  bedside  when  he  died.  "While  aiding  tlie 
rest  to  hold  him  in  the  saddle,  I  had  been  shot  through  the  shoul- 
der ;  and  twenty-four  hours  afterward  I  lay,  at  the  house  of  a 
friend  in  Richmond,  turning  and  tossing  with  fever. 

In  my  delirium  I  heard  a  mournful  tolling  of  bells.  It  was 
many  days,  however,  before  I  knew  that  they  were  tolling  for 
Stuart. 

AVhen,  at  last,  after  more  than  a  month's  confinement  to  my 
bed,  I  rose,  and  began  to  totter  about, — pale,  faint,  and  weak,  but 
convalescent — my  great  loss,  for  the  first  time,  struck  me  in  all  its 
force. 

"Where  should  I  turn  now — and  whither  should  I  go?  Jackson 
dead  at  Chancellorsville — Stuart  at  Yellow  Tavern — thenceforth 
I  seemed  to  have  lost  my  support,  to  grope  and  totter  in  dark- 
ness, without  a  guide!  These  two  kings  of  battle  had  gone  down 
in  the  storm,  and,  like  the  Knight  of  Arthur,  I  looked  around  me, 
with  vacant  and  inquiring  eyes,  asking  whither  I  was  now  to 
direct  my  steps,  and  what  work  I  should  work  in  the  coming 
years.  Jackson  I  Stuart  I — who  could  replace  them?  They  had 
loved  and  trusted  me — their  head-quarters  had  been  my  home. 
Xow,  when  they  disappeared,  I  had  no  friends,  no  home ;  and  aa 
inexpressible  sense  of  loss  descended  upon  me,  as  a  dark  cloud 
descends  and  obscures  a  landscape,  smiling  and  full  of  sunshine. 


WHAT    I    DID    NOT    SEE.  217 

Another  woe  had  come  to  me.  My  father  was  dead.  The  war 
had  snapped  the  chords  of  that  stout  heart  as  it  snapped  the  chords 
of  thousands,  and  the  illustrious  head  of  the  house  had  descended 
into  the  tomb.  From  this  double  blow  I  scarcely  had  strensrth 
to  rise.  For  weeks  I  remained  in  a  sort  of  dumb  stupor;  and  was 
only  aroused  from  it  by  the  necessity  of  looking  after  my  family 
affairs. 

As  soon  as  I  had  strength  to  mount  my  horse,  I  rode  to  Eagle's 
Nest,  A  good  aunt  had  come  and  installed  herself  as  the  friend 
and  protector  of  my  little  Annie  ;  and  with  the  arms  of  my  young 
sister  around  me,  I  wept  for  my  father. 

I  remained  at  Eagle's  Nest  more  than  two  months.  The  long 
ride  had  made  the  wound  in  my  shoulder  reopen,  and  I  was  again 
stretched  upon  a  bed  of  illness,  from  which,  at  one  time,  I  thought 
I  sliould  not  rise.  More  than  once  I  made  a  narrow  escape  from 
scouting  parties  of  Federal  cavalry  in  the  neighborhood ;  and  on 
one  occasion,  an  officer  entered  my  chamber,  but  left  me  unmo- 
lested, under  the  impression  that  I  was  too  ill  to  live. 

It  was  late  in  the  month  of  August  before  I  rose  from  ray  bed 
again,  and  set  out  on  my  return. 

In  those  three  months  and  a  half — counting  from  the  time  I  left 
Spottsylvania  with  Stuart — great  events  had  happened  in  Virginia. 
Grant's  hammer  and  Lee's  rapier  had  been  clashing  day  and  night. 
Hill  and  valley,  mountain  and  lowland — Virginia  and  Maryland — 
liad  thundered. 

General  Grant  had  hastened  forward  from  the  Wilderness,  only 
to  find  Lee  confronting  him  behind  breastworks  at  Spottsylvania 
Court-House.  The  Confederate  co^imander  had  taken  up  a  de- 
fensive position  on  the  line  of  the  Po ;  and  for  more  than  two 
weeks  Grant  threw  his  masses  against  the  works  of  his  adversary, 
in  desperate  attempts  to  break  through. 

On  the  12th  of  May,  at  daylight,  he  nearly  succeeded.  "  The 
Horse  Shoe"  salient  Avas  charged  in  the  dusk  of  morning;  the 
Southerners  were  surprised,  and  bayoneted  in  the  trenches ;  the 
works  carried;  the  artillery  captured ;  and  a  large  number  of 
prisoners  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy. 

The  blow  was  heavy,  but  General  Grant  derived  little  advantage 
from  it.    Lee  rallied  his  troops;  funued  a  new  line  ;  and  repulsed 


218  Monu^. 

every  assault  made  on  it,  throughout  the  entire  day.  When  night 
fell,  Grant  had  not  advanced  further;  Lee's  position  was  stronger 
than  before,  and  plainly  impregnable. 

For  many  days,  Grant  was  occupied  in  reconnoitring  and 
feeling  his  adversary.  At  the  end  of  a  week,  the  hope  of  break- 
ing Lee's  line  was  seen  to  be  desperate. 

Then  commenced  the  second  great  "movement  by  the  left 
flank"  toward  Richmond. 

Grant  disappeared  one  morning,  and  hastened  toward  Hanover 
Junction.  TThen  he  arrived,  Lee  was  there  in  his  front,  ready  to 
receive  him.  And  the  new  position  was  stronger,  if  any  thing, 
than  that  of  Spottsylvania.  Grant  felt  it;  abandoned  the  attempt 
to  carry  it,  at  once;  and  again  moved,  on  his  swift  and  stealthy 
way,  by  the  left  flank  toward  Richmond.  Crossing  the  Pamnnkey 
at  Ilanovertown,  he  made  straight  for  the  capital ;  but  reaching 
the  Tottapotomoi,  he  found  Lee  again  awaiting  him. 

Then  the  days  and  nights  thundered,  as  tliey  had  been  thun- 
dering since  the  day  when  Grant  crossed  the  Rnpidan.  Lee  could 
not  be  driven,  and  the  Federal  movement  by  tlie  left  flank  be- 
gan again. 

Grant  made  for  Cold  Harbor,  and  massed  his  army  to  burst 
through  the  Chickahominv,  and  seize  Richmond.  The  huge  en- 
gine  began  to  move  at  daylight,  on  the  third  of  June.  Half  an 
hour  afterward,  13,000  of  General  Grant's  forces  were  dead  or 
wounded.  He  was  repulsed  and  driven  back.  His  whole  loss, 
from  the  moment  of  crossing  the  Rapidan,  had  been  about  60,000 
men. 

That  ended  all  hopes  of  forcing  the  lines  of  the  Chickahominy. 
The  Federal  commander  gave  up  the  attempt  in  despair,  and  re- 
sumed his  "Wandering-Jew  march.  Moving  still  by  the  left  flank, 
he  hastened  to  cross  James  River  and  advance  on  Petersburg. 
But  Lee  was  again  too  rapid  for  him.  In  the  works  south  of 
the  Appomatox  the  gray  infantry,  under  the  brave  General  Wise, 
confronted  the  enemy.  They  repulsed  every  assault,  and  Grant 
sat  down  to  lay  siege  to  Richmond  from  the  distance  of  thirty 
miles. 

Such  had  been  the  great  campaign  of  the  summer  of  1864  in 
Virginia.     Lee  had  everywhere  stood  at  bay,  and  repulsed  every 


WHAT    I   DID    KOT    SEE.  219 

attack:  he  had  also  struck  in  return  a  grjat  aggressive  blow,  in 
Maryland. 

At  Cold  Harbor,  early  in  June,  news  had  arrived  that  a 
Federal  column,  under  Hunter,  was  advancing  on  Lynchburg.  A 
force  was  sent  to  intercept  Hunter,  under  the  command  of  Early. 
That  hard  fighter  crossed  the  mountains ;  attacked  his  adversary  ; 
drove  him  beyond  the  Alleghanies;  and  then,  returning  on  his 
steps,  hurried  down  the  Shenandoah  Valley  toward  the  Potomac, 
driving  every  thing  before  him.  Once  at  the  Potomac,  he  hasten- 
ed to  cross  into  Maryland.  Once  in  Maryland,  Early  advanced, 
without  loss  of  time,  upon  Washington.  At  Monocacy  her  met 
and  defeated  General  Wallace  ;  pressed  after  him  toward  Wash- 
ington ;  and  reaching  the  outer  works,  advanced  his  lines  to  the 
assault. 

But  he  had  but  a  handful,  after  the  long  and  prostrating 
march.  His  numbers  were  wholly  inadequate  to  storm  the  de- 
fences of  the  capital.  Grant  had  sent  forward,  in  haste,  two 
army  corps  to  defend  the  city,  and  Early  was  compelled  to  re- 
treat across  the  Potomac  to  the  Shenandoah  Valley,  with  the 
sole  satisfaction  of  reflecting  that  he  had  given  the  enemy  a  great 
"scare,"  and  had  flaunted  the  red-cross  flag  in  front  of  the  ram- 
parts of  Washington. 

I  have  not  space  to  describe  the  cavalry  movements  of  the 
summer.  Hampton  had  succeeded  Stuart  in  command  of  all  the 
cavalry,  and  the  country  soon  heard  the  ring  of  his  heavy 
blows. 

In  June,  Sheridan  was  sent  to  capture  Gordonsville  and  Char- 
lottesville ;  but  Hampton  checked  and  defeated  him  in  a  fierce 
action  near  Trevillian's,  and  in  another  at  Charlottesville ;  pur- 
sued him  to  the  White  House;  hurried  him  on  to  James  River; 
and  Sheridan  crossed  that  stream  on  pontoons,  glad,  no  doubt, 
to  get  back  to  the  blue  infantry.  Hampton  crossed  also  ;  pene- 
trated to  Dinwiddle  ;  defeated  the  enemy  at  Sappony  church, 
capturing  their  men  and  artillery — everywhere  they  had  been 
routed,  with  a  total  loss  of  more  than  2,000  prisoners. 

Such  were  the  events  which  had  taken  place  during  my  tedious 
illness.  They  came  to  me  only  in  vague  rumors,  or  by  means 
of  chance  newspapers  sent  by  my  neighbors.     At  last,  however,  I 


220  M  O  n  U  N . 

rose  from  ray  sick  couch,  and  embracing  my  aunt  and  sister,  who 
were  to  remain  together  at  Eagle's  Nest,  set  out  on  my  return. 

Stuart's  staff  were  all  scattered,  and  seeking  new  positions.  I 
was  one  of  them,  and  I  again  asked  myself  more  gloomily  than  at 
first,  "  Where  shall  I  go  ?" 

The  gentlemen  of  the  red  tape  at  Richmond  would  doubtless 
inform  me,  however;  and  riding  on  steadily,  with  a  keen  look  out 
for  scouting  parties,  I  at  last  reached  the  city. 

On  the  next  day  I  filed  my  application  in  the  war  oflSce,  to  be 
assigned  to  duty. 

A  week  afterward  T  had  not  heard  from  it. 

Messieurs,  the  red  tapists,  were  evidently  not  in  the  least  bit  of 
a  hurry — and  hat  in  hand  I  awaited  their  good  pleasure. 


n. 

THE    "DOOMED    CITY." 

RiCHiioxD  presented  a  singular  spectacle  in  that  summer  of 
1864. 

It  was  styled  "  the  doomed  city,"  by  our  friends  over  the  bor- 
der, and  in  truth  there  was  something  gloomy  and  tragic  in  its 
appearance — in  the  very  atm.osphere  surrounding  it. 

On  every  countenance  you  could  read  anxiety,  poverty,  the 
wasting  effect  of  the  terrible  suffering  and  suspense  of  the  epoch. 
All  things  combined  to  deepen  the  colors  of  the  sombre  picture. 
Hope  long  deferred  had  sickened  the  stoutest  hearts.  Men  were 
nervous,  anxious,  burnt  up  by  the  hot  fever  of  war.  Provisions 
of  every  description  were  sold  at  enormous  prices.  Fathers  of 
families  could  scarcely  procure  the  plainest  food  for  their  wives 
and  children.  The  streets  were  dotted  with  poor  widows,  be- 
reaved sisters,  weeping  mothers,  and  pale  daughters,  whose  black 
dresses  told  the  story  of  their  loss  to  all  eyes.  Hunger  clutched 
at  the  stomach;  agony  tore  the  heart.  Soldiers,  pale  and  totter- 
ing from  their  wounds,  staggered  by.     Cannon  rattled  through 


THE    "DOOMED    CITY."  901 

the  streets.  Couriers  clashed  backward  and  forward  from  the 
telegraph  office  to  the  war  office.  The  poor  starved — the  rich 
scarcely  fared  any  better.  Black  hair  had  become  white.  Stal- 
wart frames  were  bent  and  shrunken.  Spies  and  secret  emis- 
saries lurked,  and  looked  at  you  sidewise.  Forestallers  crowded 
the  markets.  Bread  was  doled  out  by  the  ounce.  Confederate 
money  by  the  bushel.  Gold  was  hoarded  and  buried.  Cowards 
shrunk  and  began  to  whisper— "the  flesh  pots!  the  flesh  pots! 
they  were  better!"  Society  was  uprooted  from  its  foundations. 
Strange  characters  were  thrown  up.  The  scum  had  come  to  the 
top,  and  bore  itself  bravely  in  the  sunshine.  The  whole  social 
fabric  seemed  warped  and  wrenched  from  its  base;  and  in  the 
midst  of  this  chaos  of  starving  women,  feverish  men,  spies,  ex- 
tortioners, blockade-runners, — over  the  "doomed  city,"  day  and 
night,  rolled  the  thunder  of  the  cannon,  telling  that  Grant  and 
Lee  were  still  holding  their  high  debate  at  Petersburg. 

Such  was  Eichmond  at  the  end  of  summer  in  18G-4.  Society 
was  approaching  one  of  those  epochs,  when  all  things  appear 
unreal,  monstrous,  gliding  toward  some  great  catastrophe.  All 
rascaldom  was  rampant.  The  night-birds  had  come  forth.  Vice 
stalked,  and  flaunted  its  feathers  in  the  light  of  day.  Chaos 
seemed  coming,  and  with  it  all  the  powers  of  darkness. 

That  spectacle  was  singular  to  a  soldier,  bred  in  camps,  and 
habituated,  now,  for  some  years,  to  the  breezy  airs  of  "  the  field." 
I  looked  on  with  astonishment.  The  whole  drama  seemed  un- 
real— the  characters  mere  players.  Who  was  A,  and  B,  and 
what  did  C  do  for  a  living  ?  You  knew  not,  but  they  bowed,  and 
smiled,  and  were  charming.  They  grasped  your  hand,  offered 
you  cigars,  invited  you  to  supper — they  w-anted  nothing.  And 
they  found  no  difficulty  in  procuring  guests.  I  was  no  better 
than  the  rest,  reader — there  is  an  honest  confession — and,  looking 
back  now,  I  can  see  that  I  knew,  and  dined  or  supped  with  some 
queer  characters  in  those  days. 

Shall  I  give  you  a  brief  sketch  of  one  of  these  worthies  and 
his  surroundings?  It  will  afford  some  idea  of  the  strange  con- 
trasts then  presented  in  the  "doomed"  and  starving  city. 


222  MOHUN. 

III. 

I   DINE   WITH  MR.   BLOCQUE. 

He  was  a  prominent  personage  at  that  time — my  friend  (in  a 
parliamentary  sense  at  least)  Mr.  Bloeque. 

He  was  a  charming  little  fellow,  acqiiaintecl  with  everybody— 
an  "employee  of  government,"  but  employed  to  do  heaven 
knows  what;  and  while  others  were  starving,  Mr.  Blocqiie  was 
as  plump  as  a  partridge.  He  wore  the  snowiest  shirt  bosoms, 
glittering  with  diamond  studs;  the  finest  broadcloth  coats;  the 
most  brilliant  patent  leather  shoes;  and  his  fat  little  hands 
sparkled  with  costly  rings.  He  was  constantly  smiling  in  a 
manner  that  was  delightful  to  behold  ;  hopped  about  and  chirped 
like  a  sparrow  or  tomtit ;  and  was  the  soul  of  good  humor  and 
enjoyment.  There  was  no  resisting  his  charms;  he  conquered 
you  in  five  minutes.  "When  he  linked  his  arm  in  yours,  and 
chirped,  '"My  dear  friejid,  come  and  dine  with  me — at  five  o'clock 
precisely — I  shall  certainly  expect  you  !"  it  was  impossible  to 
refuse  the  small  gentleman's  invitation.  Perhaps  you  asked 
yourself,  "Who  is  my  dear  friend,  Mr,  Bloeque — how  does  he  live 
so  well,  and  wear  broadcloth  and  fine  linen?"  But  the  next 
moment  you  smiled,  shrugged  your  shoulders,  elevated  your  eye- 
brows, and — went  to  dine  with  him. 

I  was  like  all  the  world,  and  at  five  o'clock  one  evening  was 
shown  into  Mr.  Blocque's  elegant  residence  on  Shockoe  Hill,  by 
a  servant  in  white  gloves,  who  bowed  low,  as  he  ushered  me  iu. 
Mr.  Bloeque  hastened  to  receive  me,  with  his  most  charming 
smile;  I  was  introduced  to  the  guests,  who  had  all  arrived;  and 
ten  minutes  afterward  the  folding  doors  opened,  revealing  a 
superb  banquet — for  the  word  "  dinner  "  would  be  too  common- 
place. The  table  was  one  mass  of  silver.  Waxlights,  in  can- 
delabra, were  already  lit ;  and  a  host  of  servants  waited,  silent  and 
respectful,  behind  every  chair. 

The  guests  were  nearly  a  dozen  in  number,  and  more  than  one 
prominent  "  government  official  "  honored  Mr.  Blocque's  repast. 
I  had  been  introduced  among  the  rest  to  Mr.  Torpedo,  member 


I    DINE    WITH    MR.    BLOCQUE.  223 

of  Congress,  and  bitter  foe  of  President  Davis;  Mr.  Croker,  -who 
had  made  an  enormous  fortune  by  buying  up,  and  boarding  in 
garrets  and  cellars,  flour,  bacon,  coffee,  sugar,  and  other  neces- 
saries; and  Colonel  Desperade,  a  tall  and  warlike  officer  in  a 
splendid  uniform,  who  had  never  been  in  the  army,  but  intended 
to  report  for  duty,  it  was  supposed,  as  soon  as  he  was  made 
brigadier-general. 

The  dinner  was  excellent.  The  table  literally  groaned  with 
every  delicacy.  Everywhere  vou  saw  canvass-back  ducks, 
grouse,  salmon,  pat6  de  foie  gras,  oysters;  the  champagne,  was 
really  superb ;  the  Madeira  and  sherry  beyond  praise;  and  the 
cigars  excellent  Havanas,  which  at  that  time  were  rarely  seen, 
and  cost  fabulous  prices.  Think,  old  army  comrades,  starving 
on  a  quarter  of  a  pound  of  rancid  bacon  during  that  summer  of 
'64 — think  of  that  magical  bill  of  fare,  that  array  of  wonders  ! 

Who  was  the  magician  who  had  evoked  all  this  by  a  wave  of 
his  wand?  How  could  smiling  Mr.  Blocque  roll  in  luxury  thus, 
when  everybody  else  was  starving?  How  could  my  host  wear 
broadcloth,  and  drink  champagne  and  smoke  Havanas,  when  rag- 
ged clothing,  musty  bacon,  and  new  apple-abomination,  were  the 
order  of  the  day  with  all  others  ? 

These  questions  puzzled  me  extremely ;  but  there  was  the 
magician  before  us,  smiling  in  the  most  friendly  manner,  and 
pressing  his  rich  wines  on  his  guests,  as  they  sat  around  the  pol- 
ished mahogany  smoking  their  cigars.  Elegantly  clad  servants 
hovered  noiselessly  behind  the  convives — the  wine  circulated — 
the  fragrant  smoke  rose — the  conversation  became  general — and 
all  was  animation. 

"No,  sir!"  says  Mr.  Torpedo,  puffing  fiercely  at  his  cigar, 
"  the  President  never  will  assign  Johnston  to  command  again,  sir! 
You  call  Mr.  Davis  'pig-headed,'  Mr.  Croker — you  are  wrong, 
sir  !     You  do  injustice  to  the  pigs,  sir  !     Pigs  are  not  insane,  sir  !" 

And  Mr.  Torpedo  sucks  at  his  cigar,  as  though  he  were  a  vam- 
pire, extracting  the  blood  of  his  victim. 

Mr.  Croker  sips  his  wine ;  he  is  large  and  portly  ;  ruddy  and 
pompous;  his  watch  seals  jingle;  and  he  rounds  his  periods  with 
the  air  of  a  millionaire,  who  is  atjrfustbmed  try  b'e  listened  to  with 
d^ftfi'ence. 

10 


224  MOnUN. 

"You  are  right,  my  dear,  sir,"  says  Mr.  Croker,  clearin;?  liis 
throat.  "  The  Government  has  assuredly  been  administered,  from 
its  very  inception,  in  a  manner  which  the  most  enthusiastic  ad- 
herents of  the  Executive  will  scarcely  venture  to  characterize  as 
cither  judicious  or  constitutional.  In  the  year  which  has  just 
elapsed,  things  have  been  managed  in  a  manner  which  must  ex- 
cite universal  reprobation.  Even  the  alleged  performances  of  the 
army  are  problematical,  and — " 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  says  Colonel  Desperade,  twirling  his 
mustache  in  a  warlike  manner  ;  "  do  I  understand  you  to  call 
in  question  the  nerve  of  our  brave  soldiers,  or  the  generalship  of 
our  great  commander?" 

"  I  do,  sir,"  says  Mr.  Croker,  staring  haughtily  at  the  speaker. 
"I  am  not  of  those  enthusiasts  who  consider  G-eneral  Lee  a  great 
soldier.  He  has  succeeded  in  defensive  campaigns,  but  is  defi- 
cient in  genius — and  I  will  add,  sir,  as  you  seem  to  be  surprised 
at  my  remarks,  sir,  that  in  my  opinion  the  Southern  Confederacy 
will  be  overwhelmed,  sir,  and  the  South  compelled  to  return  to 
the  Union,  sir!" 

"Upon  what  do  you  ground  that  extraordinary  assumption, 
may  I  ask,  sir?" 

"  On  common  sense  and  experience,  sir,"  returns  Mr.  Croker, 
severely;  "look  at  the  currency — debased  until  the  dollar  is 
merely  a  piece  of  paper.  Look  at  prices — coffee,  twenty  dollars 
a  pound,  and  sugar  the  same.  Look  at  the  army  starving — the 
people  losing  heart — and  strong,  able-bodied  men,"  adds  Mr. 
Croker,  looking  at  Colonel  Desperade,  "lurking  about  the  cities, 
and  keeping  out  of  the  way  of  bullets." 

The  mustached  warrior  looks  ferocious — his  eyes  dart  flame. 
"  And  who  causes  the  high  prices,  sir  ?     'Who  makes  the  money 
a  rag?     I  answer — the  forestallers  and  engrossers — do  you  kijow 
any,  sir?" 

"I  do  not,  sir!" 
"That  is  singular!  * 

And  Colonel  Degperade  twirls  his  mustache  satirically — look- 
ing at  the  pompous  Mr.  Croker  in  a  manner  which  makes  that 
ivorthy  turn  scarlet. 
I   was   laughing   to  myself  quietly,  and  listening  for  the  ex- 


I    DINE    WITH    MR.    BLOCQUE.  225 

pected  outbreak,  ^lien  Mr.  Blocqiie  interposed  with  his  winning 
voice. 

"  TChat  are  you  discussing,  gentlemen  ?"  he  said,  with  his 
charming  smile.  "But  first  tell  me  your  opinion  of  this  Madeira 
and  those  cigars.  My  agent  writes  me  word  that  he  used  every 
exertion  to  procure  the  best.  Still,  I  am  not  entirely  pleased 
with  either  the  wMne  or  brand  of  cigars,  and  hope  you  will  ex- 
cuse them.  Were  you  speaking  of  our  great  President,  Mr.  Tor- 
pedo ?  And  you,  Mr.  Croker — I  think  you  were  referring  to  the 
present  state  of  affairs.  They  appear  to  me  more  hopeful  than 
at  any  previous  time,  and  his  Excellency,  President  Davis,  is  guid- 
ing the  helm  of  state  with  extraordinary  courage  and  good  judg- 
ment. I  know  some  of  you  differ  with  me  in  these  views,  my 
friends.  But  let  us  not  be  censorious — let  us  look  on  the  bright 
side.  The  troubles  of  the  country  are  great,  and  we  of  the  South 
are  suffering  every  privation — but  we  must  bear  up,  gentlemen  ; 
we  must  keep  brave  hearts,  and  endure  all  things.  Let  us  live  on 
dry  bread  if  it  comes  to  that,  and  bravely  fight  to  the  last !  Let 
us  cheerfully  endure  hardships,  and  oppose  the  enemy  at  all 
points.  Our  present  troubles  and  privations  w^ill  soon  come  to 
an  end — we  shall  again  be  surrounded  by  the  comforts  and  luxu- 
ries of  life — and  generations  now  unborn  will  bless  our  names, 
and  pity  our  sufferings  in  these  days  that  try  men's  souls!" 

Mr.  Blocque  ceased,  and  smoothing  down  his  snowy  shirt 
bosom,  pushed  the  wine.  At  the  same  moment,  an  alabaster 
clock  on  the  marble  mantel-piece  struck  seven. 

"  So  late  ?"  said  Colonel  Desperarde.  "  I  have  an  appointment 
at  the  war  office  !" 

Mr.  Blocque  drew  out  a  magnificent  gold  watch. 

"The  clock  is  fast,"  he  said,  "keep  your  seats,  gentlemen, — 
unless  you  fancy  going  to  the  theatre.  My  private  box  is  at  your 
disposal,  and  carriages  will  be  ready  in  a  few  minutes." 

As  the  charming  little  gentleman  spoke,  he  led  the  way  back 
to  the  drawing-room — the  folding  doors  flanked  by  silent  and 
respectful  servants  as  the  guests  passed  in. 

In  five  ujinutes,  coffee  and  liqueurs  were  served  ;  both  were 
superb,  the  white  sugar  sparkled  like  crystal  in  the  silver  dish, 
and  the  cream  in  the  solid  jug  was  yellow  and  as  thick  as  a  syrup. 


226  MOnUN. 

'•Shall  it  be  the  theatre,  jrentlemen ?"  said  Mr.  Blocque,  with 
Avinning  smiles.  "We  can  amuse  ourselves  with  cards  for  an  hour, 
as  the  curtain  does  not  rise  before  eight." 

And  he  pointed  to  a  silver  basket  on  the  centre  table  of  carved 
walnut,  surmounted  bv  a  slab  of  variegated  marble.  I  looked, 
and  saw  the  croM-ning  wonder.  The  silver  basket  contained  piles 
of  gold  coin  and  greenbacks!  Not  a  trace  of  a  Confederate  note 
was  visible  in  the  mass  ! 

Packs  of  fresh  cards  were  brought  quickly  bv  a  servant,  on  a 
silver  waiter;  the  guests  helped  themselves  to  the  coin  and  bank 
notes;  in  ten  minutes  thej  were  X)laying  furiously. 

As  I  do  not  play,  I  rose  and  took  my  leave.  !Mr.  Blocque  ac- 
companied me  to  the  door,  smiling  sweetly  to  the  last. 

"  Come  again  very  soon,  my  dear  colonel,"  he  said,  squeezing 
my  hand,  "my  poor  house,  and  all  iu  it,  is  at  your  service  at  all 
times!" 

I  thanked  my  host,  shook  hands,  and  went  out  into  the  dark- 
ness,— determined  never  to  return. 

I  had  had  an  excellent  dinner,  and,  physically,  had  never  felt 
better.  Morally,  I  must  say,  I  felt  contaminated,  for,  unfortu- 
nately, i  had  begun  to  think  of  Lee's  hungry  soldiers,  lying  in 
rags,  in  the  Petersburg  trenches. 

" Eight  o'clock !  All  is  well!"  came  from  the  sentinel,  as  I 
passed  by  the  capitol. 


IV. 

JOHX   M.    DAXIEL. 


Ox  the  day  after  this  scene,  a  trifling  matter  of  business  led  me 
to  call  on  John  M.  Daniel,  editor  of  the  Examiner. 

The  career  of  this  singular  personage  had  been  as  remarkable 
as  his  character.  He  was  not  a  stranger  to  me.  I  had  known 
him  in  1849  or  '50,  when  I  accompanied  my  father  on  a  visit  to 
Kichmondj  and  I  still  recall  the  stiikin^j?  appearanc'e  of  the  iiidi- 


JOHX    M.    DANIEL.  22T 

vidiial  at  tliat  time.  He  had  come,  a  poor  boy  of  gentle  birth, 
from  the  bleak  hills  of  Stafford,  to  the  city  of  Richmond,  to  seek 
his  fortune,  and,  finding  nothing  better  to  do,  had  accepted  the 
position  of  librarian  to  the  Richmond  library,  waiting  for  some- 
thing to  "turn  up,"  and  ready  to  grasp  it.  About  the  same 
time,  that  experienced  journalist,  the  late  B.  M.  De  Witt,  had 
founded  the  Exaviiner.  He,  no  doubt,  saw  the  eminent  talents 
of  the  youth  from  Stafford,  and  the  result  had  been  an  invitation 
to  assist  in  the  editorial  departmentof  the  journal. 

Going  to  the  Richmond  library,  to  procure  for  my  father  some 
volume  for  reference,  I  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  youth- 
ful journalist.  At  the  first  glance,  I  felt  that  I  was  in  the  pres- 
ence of  an  original  character.  His  labors  on  the  Examiner  had 
just  commenced.  He  was  seated,  half-reclining,  in  an  arm-chair, 
surrounded  by  "exchanges,"  from  which  he  clipped  paragraphs, 
throwing  the  papers,  as  soon  as  he  had  done  so,  in  a  pile  upon 
the  floor.  His  black  eyes,  long  black  hair,  brushed  behind  the 
ears,  and  thin,  sallow  cheeks,  were  not  agreeable;  but  they  made 
up  a  striking  physiognomy.  The  black  eyes  glittered  with  a  sul- 
len fire;  the  thin  lips  were  wreathed  with  a  sardonic  smile  ;  and 
I  was  informed  that  the  youth  lived  the  life  of  a  solitaire^  volun- 
tarily absenting  himself  from  society,  to  give  his  days  and  nights 
to  exhausting  study. 

He  read  every  thing,  it  was  said — history,  poetry,  political 
economy,  and  theology.  Swift  was  said  to  be  his  literary  divinity, 
and  Rabelais  was  at  his  elbow  always.  Poor,  uneducated, 
ignorant  of  nearly  every  thing,  he  was  educating  himself  for  the 
future — sharpening,  by  attrition  with  the  strongest  minds' in  all 
literatures,  ancient  and  modern,  that  trenchant  weapon  which 
afterward  flashed  its  superb  lightnings  in  the  heated  atmosphere 
of  the  great  epoch  in  which  he  figured. 

Bitter,  misanthropic,  solitary;  burning  the  midnight  lamp, 
instead  of  moving  among  his  fellows  in  the  sunshine,  he  yet  pos- 
sessed hardy  virtues  and  a  high  pride  of  gentleman.  He  hated 
the  world  at  large,  it  was  said,  but  loved  his  few  friends  with  an 
ardor  which  shrank  at  nothing.  One  of  them  owed  a  sum  of 
money — and  Daniel  went  on  foot,  twenty-two  miles,  to  Peters- 
burg, paid  it,  and  returned  in  the  same  manner.      Afterward  he 


228  ATOIIUN. 

■went  in  person  to  Charlottesville,  to  purchase  a  liouse  for  the  use 
of  another  friend  of  limited  means.  For  his  friends  he  was  thus 
willing  to  sacrifice  his  convenience  and  his  means,  without 
tlionght  of  return.  All  who  were  not  his  friends,  he  is  said  to 
have  hated  or  despised.  An  acquaintance  was  in  his  room  one 
day,  and  showed  him  a  valuable  pen-knife.  Daniel  admired  it, 
and  the  gentleman  said  "  You  may  have  it,  if  you  like  it."  Daniel 
turned  upon  him,  scowled  at  him,  his  lip  curled,  and  he  replied, 
"  What  do  you  expect  rae  to  do  for  you?" 

His  other  virtues  were  self-denial,  and  a  proud  independence. 
At  the  library,  he  lived  on  bread  and  tea — often  making  the  tea 
himself.  Too  poor  to  possess  a  chamber,  he  slept  on  a  lounge  in 
the  public  room.  He  would  owe  no  man  any  thing,  asked  no 
favors,  and  fawned  on  nobody.  He  would  fight  his  own  fight, 
make  his  own  way  ;  with  the  intellect  heaven  had  sent  him, 
carve  out  his  own  future,  unassisted.  The  sallow  youth,  groan- 
ing under  dyspepsia,  with  scarce  a  friend,  and  nothing  but  his 
brain,  promised  himself  that  he  would  one  day  rise  from  his  low 
estate,  and  wield  the  thunderbolts  of  power,  as  one  born  to  grasp 
and  hurl  them. 

He  was  not  mistaken,  and  did  not  overestimate  his  powers. 
TThen  I  saw  him  in  1849  or  '50,  he  was  obscurest  of  the  obscure. 
Two  or  three  vears  afterward  he  had  made  the  Examiner  one 
of  the  great  powers  of  the  political  world,  and  was  living 
in  a  palace  at  Turin,  minister  to  Sardinia.  He  had  achieved 
this  success  in  life  bv  the  sheer  force  of  his  character ;  bv  the 
vigor  and  recklessness  of  his  pen,  and  the  intensity  of  his  invect- 
ive. Commencing  his  editorial  career,  apparently,  with  the 
theory  that,  in  order  to  rise  into  notice,  he  must  spare  nothing 
and  no  one,  he  had  entered  the  arena  of  partisan  politics  like  a 
full  armed  gladiator ;  and  soon  the  whole  country  resounded 
with  the  blows  which  he  struck.  Bitter  personality  is  a  feeble 
phrase  to  describe  the  animus  of  the  writer  in  those  days.  There 
was  something  incredibly  exasperating  in  his  comments  on 
political  opponents.  He  flayed  and  roasted  them  alive.  It  was 
like  thrusting  a  blazinc:  torch  into  the  raw  flesh  of  his  victims. 
!N"or  was  it  simple  "abuse."  The  satirist  was  too  intelligent  to 
rely  upon  that.     It  was  his  scorching  wit  which  made  opponents 


JOHN    M.    DANIEL.  229 

shrink.     His  scalpel  divided  the  arteries,  and  touched  the  vitals 
of  the  living  subject.     Personal  peculiarities  were  satirized  with 
unfailing  acumen.     The  readers  of  the  Examiner,  in  those  days, 
will  still  recaU  the  tremendous  flaying  which  he  administered  to 
his  adversaries.     It  may  almost  he  said,  that  when  the  remorse- 
less editor  had  finished  with  these  gentlemen,  there  was  "nothing 
of  them  left  "—what  lay  before  him  was  a  bleeding  and  mortally 
wounded  victim.     And  what  was  worse,  all  the  world  was  laugh- 
ing.   Those  who  looked  with  utter  disapproval  upon  his  ferocious 
course,  were  still  unable  to  resist  the  influence  of  his  mordant 
humor.     They  denounced  the  Examiner  without  stint,  but  they 
subscribed  to  it,  and  read  it  every  morning.    "Have  you  seen  the 
Examiner  to-day?"  asked  the  friend  whom  you  met  on  the  street. 
"John  M.  Daniel  is  down  on  Blank!"   said  A  to  B,  rubbing  his 
hands   and  laughing.     Blank  may  have  been  the  personal  ac- 
quaintance and  friend  of  Mr.  A,  but  there  was  no  resisting  the 
cartoon  of  him,  traced  by  the  pen  of  the  satirist!     The  portrait 
might  be  a  caricature,  but  it  was  a  terrible  likeness  !     The  Ion- 
nose  was  very  long;  the  round  shoulders,  very  round;  the  cast 
in  the  eye,  a  frightful  squint;  but  the  individual  was  unmistakable. 
The  bitter  humor  of  the  artist  had  caught  and  embodied  every 
weakness.     Thenceforth,  the  unfortunate  adversary  went  on  his 
way  before  all  eyes,  the  mark  of  suppressed  ridicule  and  laugh- 
ing whispers.     Whether  you  approved  or  disapproved,  you  read 
those  tremendous   satires.     Not  to  see   the  Examiner  in  those 
davs  was  to  miss  a  part  of  the  history  of  the  times.     The  whole 
political  world  felt  the  presence  of  a  poioer  in  journalism.     Into 
all  the  recesses  of  the  body  politic,  those  shafts  of  ridicule  or  de- 
nunciation penetrated.      That  venomous  invective  pierced  the 
hardest  panoply.     For  the  first  time'  in  American  journalism,  the 
world  saw  the  full  force  of  ridicule  ;  and  tasted  a  bitterness  of 
invective  unknown  since  the  days  of  Swift. 

Out  of  these  personal  attacks  grews  numerous  duels.  The 
butts  of  the  editor's  ridicule  sent  him  defiances,  and  he  was  en- 
gaged in  several  affairs,  which,  however,  resulted  in  nothing,  or 
nearly  nothing,  as  I  believe  he  was  wounded  only  once.  They 
did  not  induce  him  to  change  his  course.  He  seemed  to  have 
marked  out  his  career  in  cold  blood,  and  was  plainly  resolved  to 


230  Monux. 

adhere  to  his  programme — to  write  himself  into  power.  In  this 
he  fully  succeeded.  By  dint  of  slashing  and  flaying,  he  attracted 
the  attention  of  all.  Then  his  vigorous  and  mp<cnline  intellect 
riveted  the  spell.  Hated,  feared,  admired,  publicly  stigmatized 
as  one  who  "ruled  Virginia  with  a  rod  of  iron,"  he  had  reached 
his  aim ;  and  soon  the  material  results  of  success  came.  The 
director  of  that  great  political  engine,  the  Richmond  Examiner, 
.  found  no  difficulty  in  securing  the  position  which  he  desired  ;  and 
he  received  the  appointment  of  minister  to  Sardinia,  which  ho 
accepted,  selling  his  newspaper,  but  reserving  the  right  to  resume 
editorial  control  of  it  on  his  return. 

His  ambition  was  thus  gratified — for  the  moment  at  least.  The 
unknown  youth,  living  once  on  bread  and  tea,  and  too  poor  to 
possess  a  bed,  was  now  a  foreign  minister ;  had  an  Italian  count 
for  his  chef  de  cuisine  ;  and  drew  a  salary  which  enabled  him  to 
return,  some  years  afterward,  to  the  United  States  with  savings 
amounting  to  $30,000. 

It  was  a  contrast  to  his  past.  The  sallow  youth  was  M.  le  mi- 
nistre!  The  garret  in  Richmond  had  been  turned  into  a  marble 
palace  in  Turin.  He  had  a  nobleman  for  a  cook,  instead  of 
making  his  own  tea.  And  the  Examiner  had  done  all  that  for 
him ! 

When  war  became  imminent,  he  returned  to  Virginia,  and  re- 
sumed control  of  the  Examiner.  "VVith  the  exception  of  brief 
military  service  with  General  Floyd,  and  on  the  staff  of  A.  P. 
Hill,  in  the  battles  around  Richmond,  when  he  was  slightly 
wounded  in  the  right  arm,  he  remained  in  editorial  harness  until 
his  death. 

As  soon  as  he  grasped  the  helm  of  the  Examiner  again,  that 
great  battle-ship  trembled  and  obeyed  him.  It  had  been  power- 
ful before,  it  was  now  a  mighty  engine,  dragging  every  thing^in  its 
wake.  Commencing  by  supporting  the  Government,  it  soon 
became  bitterly  inimical  to  President  Davis  and  the  whole  admin- 
istration. The  invective  in  which  it  indulged  was  not  so  vio- 
lent as  in  the  past,  but  it  was  even  more  powerful  and  danger- 
ous. Every  department  was  lashed,  in  those  brief,  terse  sen- 
tences which  all  will  remember — sentences  summing  up  volumes 
in  a  paragraph,  condensing  oceans  of  gall  into   a  drop  of  ink. 


JOHiT    M.    DANIEL.  231 

Under  these  mortal  stabs,  delivered  coolly  and  deliberately,  the 
authors  of  public  abuses  shrank,  recoiled,  and  sought  safety  iu 
silence.  They  writhed,  but  knew  the  y)Ower  of  their  adversary 
too  well  to  reply  to  him.  When  once  or  twice  they  did  so,  his 
rejoinder  was  more  mortal  than  his  first  attack.  The  whole 
country  read  the  Examiner^  from  the  chief  officers  of  the  admin- 
istration to  the  humblest  soldier  in  the  trenches.  It  shaped  the 
opinions  of  thousands,  and  this  great  influence  was  not  due  to 
trick  or  chance.  It  was  not  because  it  denounced  the  Executive 
in  terms  of  the  bitterest  invective ;  because  it  descended  like  a 
wild  boar  on  the  abuses  or  inefficiency  of  the  departments  ;  but 
because  this  journal,  more,  perhaps,  than  any  other  in  the  South, 
spoke  the  public  sentiment,  uttered  its  views  with  fearless 
candor,  and  conveyed  those  views  in  words  so  terse,  pointed, 
and  trenchant — in  such  forcible  and  excellent  English — that  the 
thought  of  the  writer  was  driven  home,  and  remained  fixed  in 
the  dullest  apprehension. 

The  Examiner^  in  one  word,  had  become  the  controlling  power, 
almost,  of  the  epoch.  Its  views  had  become  those  even  of  men 
who  bitterly  stigmatized  its  course.  You  might  disapprove  of  its 
editorials  often,  and  regret  their  appearance — as  I  did — but  it  was 
impossible  not  to  be  carried  onward  by  the  hardy  logic  of  the 
writer:  impossible  not  to  admire  the  Swift-like  pith  and  vigor 
of  this  man,  who  seemed  to  have  re-discovered  the  lost  well  of 
undefiled  English. 

When  I  went  to  see  John  M.  Daniel,  thus,  in  this  summer  of 
1864,  it  was  not  a  mere  journalist  whom  I  visited,  but  a  his- 
toric character.  For  it  was  given  to  him,  invisible  behind  the 
scenes,  to  shape,  in  no  small  degree,  the  destiny  of  the  country,  by 
moulding  the  views  and  opinions  of  the  actors  who  contended  on 
the  public  arena. 

Was  that  influence  for  good  or  for  evil  ?  Let  others  answer. 
To-day  this  man  is  dead,  and  the  cause  for  which  he  fought  with 
his  pen  has  failed.  I  reproduce  liis  figure  and  some  scenes  of 
that  great  cause — make  your  own  comments,  reader. 


10* 


232  MOHUIST. 


V. 

THE   EDITOR    IN   HIS   SANCTUM. 

Knocking  at  the  door  of  tlie  journalist's  house  on  Broad  Street, 
nearly  opposite  the  '•  African  church,"  I  was  admitted  bv  a  negro 
servant,  sent  up  my  name,  and  was  invited  by  Mr.  Daniel  to  as- 
cend to  his  sanctum  on  the  second  story. 

I  went  up,  and  found  him  leaning  back  in  a  high  chair  of  black 
horse-hair,  in  an  apartment  commanding  a  view  southward  of 
James  River  and  Chesterfield.  On  a  table  beside  him  were  books 
and  papers — the  furniture  of  the  room  was  plain  and  simple. 

He  greeted  me  with  great  cordiality,  bowing  ver}"  courteously, 
and  offering  me  a  cigar.  I  had  not  seen  him  since  his  return 
from  Europe,  and  looked  at  him  with  some  curiosity.  He  was  as 
sallow  as  before — his  eyes  as  black  and  sparkling ;  but  his  long, 
black  hair,  as  straight  as  an  Indian's,  and  worn  behind  his  ears, 
when  I  first  knew  him,  was  close-cut  now ;  and  his  upper  lip  was 
covered  by  a  black  mustache.  His  dress  was  simple  and  exceed- 
ingly neat.  It  was  impossible  not  to  see  that  the  famous  jour- 
nalist was  a  2:entleman. 

As  I  had  visited  him  purely  upon  a  matter  of  business,  I  dis- 
patched it,  and  then  rose  to  take  my  departure.  But  he  urged 
me  with  persistent  cordiality,  not  to  desert  him.  He  saw  few 
persons,  he  said  ;  I  must  stay  and  dine  with  him.  I  had  business? 
Then  I  could  attend  to  it,  and  would  do  him  the  favor  to  return. 

Looking  at  my  watch,  I  found  that  it  was  nearly  two  o'clock — 
he  had  informed  me  that  he  dined  at  four — and,  not  to  detain  the 
reader  with  these  details,  recurring  to  a  very  retentive  memory, 
I  found  myself,  two  hours  afterward,  seated  at  table  with  the 
editor  of  the  Examiner. 

The  table  was  of  ancient,  and  brilliantly-polished  mahogany. 
The  dinner  consisted  of  only  two  or  three  dishes,  but  these  were 
of  the  best  quality,  excellently  cooked,  and  served  upon  china  of 
the  most  costly  description.  Coffee  followed — then  a  great 
luxury — and,  not  only  the  sugar-dish,  cream-jug  and  other  pieces 


THE    EDITOR    IN    HIS    SxVNCTUM.        233 

of  the  service  were  of  silver;  the  waiter  upon  which  they  rested 
was  of  the  same  material — heavy,  antique,  and  richly  carved. 

We  lingered  at  table  throughout  the  entire  afternoon,  my  host 
having  resisted  every  attempt  which  I  made  to  depart,  by  taking 
my  hat  from  my  hand,  and  thrusting  upon  me  another  excellent 
Havana  cigar.  Cordiality  so  extreme,  in  one  who  bore  the  repu- 
tation of  a  man-hater,  was  at  least  something  piquant — and  as 
my  host  had  appealed  to  my  weak  side,  by  greatly  praising  a 
slight  literary  performance  of  mine  ("he  would  be  proud,"  he 
assured  me,  "to  have  it  thought  that  he  had  written  it),"  I 
yielded,  surrendered  my  hat,  lit  the  cigar  offered  me,  and  we  went 
on  talking. 

I  still  recall  that  conversation,  the  last  but  one  which  I  ever 
had  with  this  singular  man.  Unfortunately,  it  does  not  concern 
the  narrative  I  now  write,  and  I  would  not  like  to  record  his 
denunciations  and  invective  directed  at  the  G-overnment.  He 
handled  it  without  mercy,  and  his  comments  upon  the  character 
of  President  Davis  were  exceedingly  bitter.  One  of  these  was 
laughable  for  the  grim  humor  of  the  idea.  Opening  a  volume  of 
Voltaire — whose  complete  works  he  had  just  purchased — he 
showed  me  a  passage  in  one  of  the  infidel  dramas  of  the  great 
Frenchman,  where  King  David,  on  his  death-bed,  after  invoking 
maledictions  upon  his  opponents,  declares  that  "having  forgiven 
all  his  enemies  en  hon  Juif,  he  is  ready  to  die." 

A  grim  smile  came  to  the  face  of  the  journalist,  as  he  showed 
me  the  passage. 

"That  suits  Mr.  Davis  exactly,"  he  said.  "He  forgives  his 
enemies  en  ion  Juif/  I  believe  I  will  make  an  editorial,  and 
quote  the  passage  on  him — but  he  wouldn't  understand  it!" 

That  was  bitter — was  it  not,  reader  ?  I  raised  my  pen  to  draw 
a  line  through  the  incident,  but  it  can  do  no  harm  now. 

The  solitary  journalist-politician  spoke  freely  of  himself  and 
his  intentions  for  the  future.  With  a  few  passages  from  our 
talk  on  this  point,  I  will  terminate  my  account  of  the  inter- 
view. 

"You  see  I  am  here  chained  to  the  pen,"  he  said,  "  and,  luckily, 
I  have  that  which  defies  the  conscript  ofl[icers,  if  the  Government 
takes  a  fancy  to  order  editors  into  the  ranks." 


234  MOHUN. 

Smiling  slightly  as  he  spoke,  he  showed  me  his  right  hand,  tho 
fingers  of  which  he  could  scarcely  bend. 

"I  was  wounded  at  Cold  Harbor,  in  June,  18G2,"  he  added; 
"not  much  wounded  either;  but  sufficient  to  prevent  me  from 
handling  a  sword  or  musket.  It  is  a  trifle.  I  should  like  to  b« 
able  to  show  an  honorable  scar*  in  this  cause,  and  I  am  sorry  I 
left  the  army.  By  this  time  I  might  have  been  a  brigadier — per- 
haps a  major-general.''  * 

"  Possibly,"  I  replied ;  "  but  the  position  of  an  editor  is  a  pow- 
erful one." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?" 

"Don't  you?" 

"  Yes,  colonel ;  but  what  good  is  the  Examiner  doing  ?  What 
can  all  the  papers  in  the  Confederacy  effect  ?  Besides,  I  like  to 
command  men.     I  love  power."* 

I  laughed. 

"I  "would  recommend  the  philosophic  view  of  things,"  I  said. 
"  TVhy  not  take  the  good  the  gods  provide  ?  As  a  soldier,  you 
would  be  in  fetters — whatever  your  rank — to  say  nothing  of  the 
bullet  that  might  cut  short  your  career.  And  yet  this  life  of  the 
brain  is  wearing  too,—" 

"But  my  health  is  all  the  better  for  it,"  he  said.  "  A  friend  was 
here  to  see  me  the  other  day,  and  I  startled  him  by  the  observa- 
tion '  I  shall  live  to  eat  the  goose  that  eats  the  grass  over  your 
grave.'  *  When  he  inquired  my  meaning,  I  replied,  '  For  two  rea- 
sons— I  come  of  a  long-lived  race,  and  have  an  infallible  sign  of 
longevity ;  I  never  dream,  and  my  sleep  is  always  sound  and  re- 
freshing.' "  * 

"Do  Tou  believe  in  that  dictum?"  I  said. 

"  Thoroughly,"  he  replied,  laughing.  "  I  shall  live  long,  in  spite 
of  the  enmities  which  would  destroy  me  in  an  instant,  if  the  secret 
foes  I  have  could  only  accomplish  their  end  without  danger  to 
themselves." 

"You  do  not  really  believe,  surely,  that  you  have  such  foes?" 

"!N"ot  believe  it?  I  know  it.  You  have  them,  colonel,  too. 
How  long  do  you  think  you  would  live,  if  your  enemies  had  their 
way  with  you  ?     Perhaps  you  think  you  have  no  enemies  who 

*  His  -morris. 


THE    EDITOR    IN    HIS    SANCTUM.        235 

hate  you  enough  to  kill  you.  You  are  greatly  mistaken — every 
man  has  his  enemies.  I  have  them  by  the  thousand,  and  I  have 
no  doubt  you,  too,  have  them,  tliough  they  are  probably  not  so 
numerous  as  mine."* 

"But  their  enmity  comes  to  nothing." 

"Because  to  indulge  it,  would  bring  them  into  trouble,"  he  re- 
plied. '•  Neither  your  enemies  or  mine  would  run  the  risk  of 
murdering  us  in  open  day ;  but  suppose  they  could  kill  us  by 
simply  wishing  it?  I  should  drop  down  dead  before  your  eyes — 
and  you  would  fall  a  corpse  in  Main  Street  before  you  reached 
vour  home  I"  "^ 

"  A  gloomy  view  enough,  but  I  dare  not  deny  it." 

"  It  would  be  useless,  colonel.  That  is  the  way  men  are  made. 
For  myself,  I  distrust  all  of  them— or  nearly  all." 

He  uttered  the  words  with  intense  bitterness,  and  for  a  moment 
remained  silent. 

"This  is  gloomy  talk,"  he  said,  "and  will  not  amuse  you.  Let 
us  change  the  topic.  TVhen  I  am  not  discussing  public  affairs — 
the  doings  of  this  wretched  administration,  and  the  old  man  of  the 
sea  astride  upon  the  country's  back— I  ought  to  try  and  amuse 
myself." 

"  You  find  the  Examiner  a  heavy  weight  upon  you  ?" 

"It  is  a  mill-stone  around  my  neck."* 

"  Why  not  throw  it  off,  if  you  find  it  onerous?" 

"  Because  I  look  to  this  journal  as  a  father  does  to  an  only  son 
—as  my  pet,  my  pride,  and  the  support  and  honor  of  myself  and 
ray  name  in  the  future." 

"You  are  proud  of  it." 

"It  has  made  me,  and  it  will  do  more  for  me  hereafter  than  it 
has  ever  done  yet." 

He  paused,  and  then  v/ent  on,  with  a  glow  in  his  swarthy  face: 

"Everyman  has  his  cherished  object  in  this  world,  colonel. 
Mine  is  the  success  and  glory  of  the  Examiner.  I  intend  to  mako 
of  it  what  the  London  Times  is  in  England,  and  the  world — a 
great  power,  which  shall  lay  down  the  law,  control  cabinets, 
mould  parties,  and  direct  events.     It  has  given  me  much  trouble 

♦  His  •vrorda. 


236  MOIIUX. 

to  establish  it,  but  ca  ira  now!  From  the  Examiner  I  expect  to 
realize  the  great  dream  of  my  life." 

"The  dream  of  your  life?  What  is  that? — if  I  may  ask  with- 
out intrusion." 

"Oh!  I  make  no  secret  of  it,  and  as  a  gentleman  speaking  to  a 
gentleman,  can  say  what  I  could  not  in  the  society  of  roturiers  or 
common  people.  My  family  is  an  old  and  honorable  one  in  Vir- 
ginia— this,  by  way  of  explanation  only,  I  beg  you  to  note.  AVe 
are  thus,  people  of  old  descent,  but  my  branch  of  the  family  is 
ruined.  My  object  is  to  reinstate  it;  and  you  will  perhaps 
compare  me  to  the  scheming  young  politician  in  Bulwer's  'My 
Xovel,'  who  seeks  to  restore  the  family  fortunes,  and  brighten  up 
the  lonely  old  house — in  Yorkshire,  is  it?    You  remember?" 

"Yes,"  I  said. 

"  Well,  I  always  sympathized  with  that  character.  He  is  mor- 
ally bad,  you  say  :  granted ;  but  he  is  resolute  and  brave — and 
his  object  is  noble." 

"  I  agree  with  you,  the  object  is  noble." 

"  I  am  glad  you  think  so,  colonel.  I  see  I  speak  to  one  who 
lias  the  old  Virginia  feeling.     You  respect  family." 

"  Who  does  not  ?  There  are  those  who  profess  to  care  naught 
for  it,  but  it  is  because  they  are  new-comers." 

"  Yes,"  was  the  journalist's  reply,  •'  mushrooms — and  very  dirty 
ones!" 

I  laughed  at  the  speaker's  grimace. 

*'For  my  own  part,"  I  said,  "  I  do  not  pretend  to  be  indifferent 
whether  or  not  my  father  was  a  gentleman.  I  bow  as  politely  to 
the  new-comer  as  if  it  were  the  Conqueror  he  came  over  with  ; 
but  still  I  am  glad  my  father  was  a  gentleman.  I  hope  no  one 
will  quarrel  with  that." 

"  You  are  mistaken.     Tliey  will  hate  you  for  it." 

"  You  are  right — but  I  interrupted  you." 

"I  am  glad  the  interruption  came,  colonel,  for  it  gave  you  an 
opportunity  of  showing  me  that  ray  views  and  your  own  are  in 
exact  accord  on  this  subject.  I  will  proceed,  therefore,  without 
ceremony,  to  tell  you  what  I  design  doing  some  day." 

I  listened  with  attention.  It  is  always  interesting  to  look  into 
the  recesses  of  a  remarkable  man's  character.     This  human  being 


THE    EDITOR    IN    HIS    SANCTUAT.        237 

was  notable  in  an  epoch  filled  with  notabilities ;  and  chance  was 
about  to  give  me  an  insight  into  his  secret  thoughts. 

He  twirled  a  paper-cutter  in  his  fingers,  reflected  a  moment, 
and  said  : — • 

"  I  am  still  young — not  very  young  either,  for  I  will  soon  be 
forty — but  I  know  no  young  man  who  has  better  prospects  than 
myself,  and  few  who  have,  done  so  well.  I  suppose  I  am  worth 
now  nearly  $100,000  in  good  money.  I  have  more  gold  coin  than 
I  know  what  to  do  witli.  The  Examiner  is  very  valuable  prop- 
erty, and  is  destined  to  be  much  more  so.  I  expect  to  live  long, 
and  if  I  do,  I  shall  be  rich.  When  I  am  rich,  I  shall  buy  the  old 
familv  estate  in  Stafford  Countv,  and  shall  add  to  it  all  the  land 
for  miles  around.  I  shall  build  a  house  to  my  fancy,  and,  with 
all  my  possessions  walled  in,  I  shall  teach  these  people  what  they 
never  knew — how  to  live  like  a  gentleman.''* 

The  glow  had  deepened  on  the  sallow  face.  It  was  easy  to  see 
that  the  speaker  had  unfolded  to  me  the  dream  of  his  life. 

"  Your  scheme  is  one,"  I  said,  "  which  takes  my  fancy  greatly. 
But  why  do  you  intend  to  wall  in  your  property?" 

''To  keep  out  those  wolves  called  men." 

"  Ah  !  I  forgot.  You  do  not  like  those  bipeds  without  feath- 
ers." 

''  I  like  some  of  them,  colonel ;  but  the  majority  are  worse  than 
my  dogs,  Fanny  and  Frank,  yonder.  Sometimes  I  think  they  are 
human — they  bite  each  other  so!" 

1  laughed.  There  was  something  piquant  in  the  grim  humor 
of  this  singular  personage. 

"What  is  your  ideal  man?"  I  said,  "for,  doubtless,  you  have 
such  an  ideal?" 

"  Yes.  I  like  a  man  of  bronze,  who  does  not  snivel  or  weep. 
I  like  Wigfall  for  his  physique  and  his  magnificent  courage.  It 
is  the  genuine  thing.  There  is  no  put  on  there.  He  has  native 
pluck — the  actual  article — and  it  is  no  strain  on  him  to  exhibit  it. 
The  grit  is  in  him,  and  you  can't  shake  him."  * 

"  You  would  admit  your  men  of  bronze,  then,  into  the  walled- 
up  domain  in  Stafford?" 

•  This  paragraph  is  in  Mr.  J.  M.  Daniel's  words.  t  His  ■words. 


238  MOIIUN. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  sjiid  grimly.  ""With  my  violin,  a  good 
cook,  English  Looks  and  ])apers — I  hate  your  Yankee  trash — and 
occasional  travel,  I  think  I  could  get  through  life  without  very 
great  ennui.  I  do  not  expect  to  be  governor  of  Virginia  for  ten 
years  yet!" 

And  smiling,  the  journalist  said  : — 

"Let  us  change  the  subject.  What  are  people  talking  aboi:t  ? 
I  never  ask  what  is  the  news.*  Is  any  thing  said  of  evacuating 
Virginia?  That  is  a  pernicious  idea!*  Whom  have  you  *seeu 
lately?" 

"A  queer  set,"  I  said. 

And  I  gave  him  an  account  of  my  dinner  at  Mr.  Blocque's. 

"What  a  little  wretch!"  he  said.  "I  think  I  will  run  a  pin 
through  that  bug,  and  impale  him.  He  would  make  a  fine  dish 
served  up  d  la  Victor  Hugo.  You  have  read  Les  Miaerahles  yon- 
der?    It  is  a  trashy  atFair." 

And  taking  up  the  elegantly  bound  volume,  which  must  have 
cost  him  a  considerable  sum,  he  quietly  pitched  it  out  of  the  win- 
dow. 

As  he  did  so,  the  printer's  devil  appeared  at  the  door,  holding 
proof  in  his  hand. 

"  You  see  I  am  never  safe  from  intrusion,  colonel.  This 
Examiner  newspaper  keeps  me  at  the  oar." 

I  rose  and  put  on  my  hat. 

"  Come  and  see  me  again  soon,  if  it  suits  your  convenience," 
he  said.  "I  am  going  to  write  an  editorial,  and  I  think  I  will 
serve  up  your  host,  Blocque." 

"  Do  not  use  his  nnme." 

"Be  tranquil.     He  will  be  the  type  only." 

And,  escorting  me  to  the  door,  Mr.  Daniel  bestow'ed  a  cour- 
teous bow  i}pon  me,  which  I  returned.     Then  the  door  closed. 

♦  His  words. 


EDITORIAL    IN    THE    EXAMINER.        239 


VI. 

AN  EDITORIAL   IN   THE  EXAMINER. 

On  the  following  morning  I  opened  the  Examiner,  and  the  first 
article  which  I  saw  was  the  following  one,  on 

THE    BLOCKADE-RUXXER. 

"We  owe  to  the  kindness  of  Shem's  Express  Company,  which 
has  charge  of  tlie  line  between  the  front  door  of  the  State  Depart- 
ment and  the  back  door  of  the  Tuileries  kitchen,  the  advance  sheets 
of  a  new  novel  by  Yictus  Hautgout,  Avhich  bears  the  striking  title, 
Les  Fortunes,  and  which  consists  of  five  parts— Abraham,  Isaac, 
Jacob,  Judah,  and  Bexjamin.  Of  course,  the  discerning  reader 
will  not  suppose  for  a  moment  that  there  is  any  connection  be- 
tween Les  Fortunes  and  Les  MiseraMes  ;  between  the  chaste  style 
of  HArTGorT  and  the  extravaganzas  of  Hugo  ;  whose  works,  in 
former  days,  were  not  considered  fit  reading  for  an  Anglo-Saxon 
public,  whose  latest  and  most  corrupt  fiction  owes  its  success 
(let  us  hope)  rather  to  the  dearth  of  new  literature  than  to  the 
vitiated  taste  of  the  Southern  people.  How  great  the  ditference 
between  the  two  authors  is,  can  best  be  appreciated  by  comparing 
the  description  of  the  garain  in  Mariiis,  with  the  following  extracts 
from  Hautgout's  portraiture  of  the  Blockade-Ruxxer:— 

"Yankeedom  has  a  bird,  and  the  crocodile  has  a  bird.  The 
"  crocodile's  bird  is  called  the  Trochilus.  Yankeedom's  bird  is 
"called  the  blockade-runner.  Yankeedom  is  the  crocodile.  TJja 
"blockade-runner  is  the  Trochilus. 

"  Couple  these  two  ideas— Yankeedom  and  the  crocodile.  They 
*'  are  worth  the  coupling.  The  crocodile  is  asleep.  He  does  not 
"  sleep  on  both  ears ;  he  sleeps  with  one  eye  open ;  his  jaws  are 
"also  open.  Rows  of  teeth  appear,  sharped,  fanged,  pointed, 
"  murderous,  carnivorous,  omnivorous.  Some  of  the  teeth  are 
"wanting:  say  a  dozen.  Who  knocked  those  teeth  out?  A 
"demon.  What  demon?  Or  perhaps  an  angel.  What  angel? 
"  The  angel  is  secession :  the  demon  is  rebellion.     Ormuzd  and 


240  M  0  n  U  N . 

"  Aheiman  :  Balduk  and  Loki  :    the  Devil   and   St.  Dunstan. 
"  So  we  go. 

"  The  Trochiliis  picks  the  crocodile's  teeth.  Does  the  crocodile 
"  object  ?  Not  he.  He  likes  to  have  his  teeth  picked.  It  is 
"good  for  his  herdth.  It  promotes  his  digestion.  It  is,  on  the 
"  whole,  a  sanitary  measure.  'Feed  yourself,'  he  says,  'my  good 
"  Trochilus,  on  the  broken  meats  which  lie  between  my  grinders. 
"Feed  your  little  ones  at  home.  I  shan't  snap  you  up  unless  I 
*'  get  very  hungry.  There  are  Confederates  enough.  Why  should 
"I  eat  your 

"This  little  creature — this  Trochilus  ohsidionalis — this  block- 
"  ade-running  tomtit — is  full  of  joy.  He  has  rich  food  to  eat 
"every  day.  He  goes  to  the  show  every  evening,  when  he  is  not 
"  on  duty.  He  has  a  fine  shirt  on  his  back  ;  patent-leather  boots 
"  on  his  feet;  the  pick  and  choice  of  a  dozen  houses.  He  is  of 
"any  age — chiefly  of  the  conscript  age;  ranges  singly  or  in 
'*  couples;  haunts  auction  houses  ;  dodges  enrolling  officers;  eats 
"  canvass-backs  ;  smells  of  greenbacks ;  swears  allegiance  to  both 
"sides;  keeps  faith  with  neither;  is  hand  and  glove  with  Abe's 
"  detectives  as  well  as  with  "Winder's  Plugs  ;  smuggles  in  an 
"  ounce  of  quinine  for  the  Confederate  Government,  and  smuggles 
"out  a  pound  of  gold  for  the  Lincolnites;  fishes  in  troubled 
"  waters;  runs  with  the  hare  and  hunts  with  the  hounds;  sings 
"Yankee  Doodle  through  one  nostril,  and  My  Maryland  through 
"the  other;  is  on  good  terms  with  everybody — especially  with 
"  himself — and,  withal,  is  as  great  a  rascal  as  goes  unhung. 

^  H(  ^  :|c  :): 

"  He  has  sports  of  his  own  ;  roguish  tricks  of  his  own,  of  which 
"a  hearty  hatred  of  humdrum,  honest  people  is  the  basis.  He 
"has  his  own  occupations,  such  as  running  for  hacks,  which  he 
"  hires  at  fabulous  prices ;  crossing  the  Potomac  in  all  kinds  of 
"  weather;  rubbing  oflt"  Yankee  trade-marks  and  putting  English 
"labels  in  their  stead.  He  has  a  currency  of  his  own,  slips  of 
"  green  paper,  which  have  an  unvarying  and  well  regulated  cir- 
"  culation  throughout  this  gipsy  band, 

■H  »  +  *  * 

"  He  is  never  satisfied  with  his  pantaloons  unless  they  have  a 
"watch-fob,  and  never  sati>fied  with  his  watch-fob  unless  it  con- 


UNDER    THE    CROSSED    SWORDS.       241 

"  tains  a  gold  watch.     Sometimes  he  has  two  watch-fobs ;  some- 

"  times  d  score. 

***** 

"Tliis  rosy  child  of  Richmond  lives,   develops,  gets  into  and 

"  out  of  scrapes — a  merry  witness  of  our  social  unrealities.     lie 

"  looks   on  ready  to  laugh ;    ready  also  for  something   else,  for 

"pocketing  whatever  he  can  lay  his  hands  on.     Whoever  you 

"  are,   you   that  call  yourselves  Honor,  Justice,    Patriotism,  In- 

"  dependence,  Freedom,  Candour,  Honesty,  Right,  beware  of  the 

"  grinning  blockade-runner.     He  is  growing.     He  will  continue 

"  to  grow. 

"  Of  what  clay  is  he  made  ?  Part  Baltimore  street-dirt,  part 
"  James  River  mud,  best  part  and  worst  part  sacred  soil  of  Pales- 
"  tine.  What  will  become  of  him  in  the  hands  of  the  potter, 
''  chance?  Heaven  grant  that  he  may  be  ground  into  his  original 
"  powder  before  he  is  stuck  up  on  our  mantel-pieces  as  a  costly 
"vase,  in  which  the  choice  flowers  of  our  civilization  can  but 
"  wither  and  die." 

Admire  that  grim  humor,  reader — the  firm  stroke  with  which 
this  Aristophanes  of  1864  drew  my  friend,  Mr.  Blocqne.  See 
how  he  reproduced  every  trait,  delineated  the  worthy  in  his  exact 
colors,  and,  at  the  foot  of  the  picture,  wrote,  as  it  were,  "  Here  is 
going  to  be  the  founder  of  '  one  of  the  old  families,' — one  of  the 
ornaments  of  the  future,  who  will  come  out  of  the  war  rich,  and 
be  a  costly  vase,  not  a  vessel  of  dishonor,  as  at  present." 

Grim  satirist!  You  saw  far,  and  I  think  we  want  you  to- 
day! 


VII. 

UNDER    THE    CROSSED    SWORDS. 

I  HAD  dined  with  Mr.  Blocque;  two  days  afterward  I  went  to 
sup  with  Judge  Conway. 

Does  the  reader  remember  his  appearance  at  Culpeper  Court- 
House,  on  the  night  of  the  ball  after  the  review  in  June,  1863  ? 


242  M  O  H  U  X . 

On  that  evening  he  had  excited  my  astonishment  by  abruptly  ter- 
minating the  interview  between  his  daugliter  and  Captain 
Davenant ;  and  I  little  supposed  that  1  would  ever  penetrate  the 
motive  of  that  action,  or  become  intimate  with  the  performer. 

Yet  the  chance  of  war  had  decreed  that  both  events  should 
occur.  All  will  be,  in  due  time,  explained  to  the  reader's  satis- 
faction;  at  present  we  will  simply  make  the  acquaintance  of  one 
of  the  most  distinguished  statesmen  of  the  epoch. 

My  friendly  relations  with  the  judge  came  about  in  a  very 
simple  manner.  He  was  an  intimate  associate  of  the  gentleman 
at  whose  house  I  was  staying;  had  taken  great  interest  in  my 
recovery  after  Yellow  Tavern  ;  and  therefore  had  done  me  the 
honor  to  bestow  his  friendship  upon  me. 

On  the  dav  to  which  we  have  now  come.  Judge  Conwav  had 
made  a  speech  of  surpassing  eloquence,  in  Congress,  on  the  con- 
dition of  the  country,  and  I  had  listened,  thrilling  at  the  brave 
voice  which  rang  out  its  sonorous,  "All's  well  I''  amid  the  storm. 
I  was  now  going  to  call  on  the  statesman  to  express  my  admira- 
tion of  his  eloquent  appeal,  and  converse  upon  the  exciting  topics 
of  the  hour. 

I  found  him  in  a  mansion  not  far  from  the  splendid  residence 
of  Mr.  Blocque.  Here  he  occupied  "  apartments,''  or  rather  a 
single  room, — and,  in  1804,  my  dear  reader,  that  was  a  very  com- 
mon mode  of  living. 

Like  others.  Judge  Conway  was  too  poor  to  occupy  a  whole 
house, — even  too  poor  to  board.  He  had  a  single  apartment,  con- 
taining a  few  chairs  and  a  bed ;  was  waited  on  by  a  maid  ;  and, 
I  think,  prepared  his  own  meals,  which  were  plain  to  povert}'. 

He  met  ine  at  the  door  of  his  bare  and  poor-looking  apart- 
ment, extending  his  hand  with  the  gracious  and  stately  courtesy 
of  the  ancient  regime.  His  figure  was  small,  slight,  and  bent  by 
age  ;  his  face,  thin  and  pale  ;  his  hair  nearly  white,  and  falling  in 
long  curls  upon  his  shoulders  ;  under  the  gray  brows  sparkled 
keen,  penetrating,  but  benignant  eyes. 

As  I  pressed  the  hand  of  my  host,  and  looked  around  the  poor 
apartment,  I  could  not  refrain  from  a  sentiment  of  profound  bit- 
terness. Two  days  before  I  had  dined  at  the  table  of  a  peddling 
blockade-runner,  who  ate  canvass-backs,  drank  champagne,  wore 


UNDER    THE    CROSSED    SWORDS.       0^3 

"fine  linen,"  and,  dodging  the  conscript  officers,  revelled  in  lux- 
ury and  plenty.  And  now  here  before  me  was  a  gentleman  of 
ancient  lineage,  whose  ancestors  had  been  famous,  who  had  him- 
self played  a  great  part  in  the  history  of  the  commonwealth, — 
and  this  gentleman  was  poor,  lived  in  lodgings,  had  scarce  a 
penny;  he  had  been  wealthy,  and  was  still  the  owner  of  great 
possessions;  but  the  bare  land  was  all  that  was  left  him  for  sup- 
port. He  had  been  surrounded  with  luxury,  but  had  sacrificed 
all  to  the  cause.  He  had  had  two  gallant  sons,  but  they  had 
fallen  at  the  first  Manassas — their  crossed  swords  were  above  his 
poor  bare  mantel-piece. 

From  the  splendid  table  of  the  sneaking  blockade-runner,  I  had 
come  to  the  poverty-stricken  apartment  of  this  great  statesman 
and  high-bred  gentleman. 

"Oh,  Juvenal !"  I  muttered,  "  it  is  your  satires,  not  the  bucol- 
ics of  Virgil,  that  suit  this  epoch  !" 

The  old  statesman  pointed,  with  all  the  grace  of  a  nobleman,  to 
a  bare  rocking-chair,  and  received  my  congratulations  upon  his 
speech  with  modest  simplicity. 

"  I  am  glad  that  my  views  are  honored  by  your  good  opinion, 
colonel,"  he  said,  "  and  that  you  approve  of  the  tone  of  them.  I 
am  naturally  given  to  invective — a  habit  derived  from  my  friend, 
the  late  Mr.  Randolph  ;  but  the  country  wants  encouragement." 

"  And  yet  not  to  satirize  is  so  hard,  my  dear  sir  I" 

"Very  hard." 

"Think  of  the  army  depleted — the  soldiers  starving — the 
finances  in  ruin,  and  entire  destruction  threatening  us!" 

The  old  statesman  was  silent.  A  moment  afterward  he  raised 
his  head,  and  with  his  thin  finger  pointed  to  the  crossed  swords 
above  his  raantel-piece. 

"  I  try  to  bear  and  forbear  since  I  lost  my  poor  boys,"  he  said. 
"  They  died  for  their  country — I  ought  to  live  for  it,  and  do  what 
I  can  in  my  sphere — to  suppress  my  bitterness,  and  try  to  utter 
words  of  good  cheer.  But  we  are  discussing  gloomy  topics.  Let 
us  come  to  more  cheerful  matters.  .  I  am  in  very  good  spirits 
to-day.  My  daughters  have  come  to  make  me  a  visit,"  and  the 
old  face  glowed  with  smiles;  its  expression  was  quite  charming. 

"I   ^de   you   do  not  apjft'^ciate  that    gi'eat  tr'cut,    my  dear 


244  M  O  H  U  N . 

colonel,"  lie  added,  smiling.  "  Yon  are  yet  unmarried,  thongh  I 
rejoice  to  hear  you  are  soon  to  be  united  to  a  daughter  of  my  old 
friend,  Colonel  Beverly,  of  "  TliQ  Oaks."  Some  day  I  hope  you 
will  know  the  great  charm  of  paternity.  This  morning  I  was 
lonely — this  evening  I  am  no  longer  so.  Georgia  and  Virginia 
have  come  up  from  my  house,  "Five  Forks,"  escorted  by  my 
faithful  old  Juba,  and  they  burst  in  upon  me  like  the  sunshine!" 

The  words  had  scarcely  been  uttered  when  a  tap  came  at  the 
door;  a  voice  said,  "May  we  come  in,  papa?"  and  a  moment 
afterward  the  door  opened,  and  admitted  Miss  Georgia  Conway 
and  her  sister  Virginia. 

Miss  Georgia  was  the  same  tall  and  superb  beauty,  with  the 
dark  hair  and  eyes  ;  Miss  Virginia  the  same  winning  little  blonde, 
■with  tlie  blue  eyes,  and  the  smiles  which  made  her  lips  resemble 
rose-buds.  The  young  ladies  were  clad  in  poor,  faded-looking 
calicoes,  and  the  slippers  on  the  small  feet,  peeping  from  their 
skirts,  were  full  of  holes.  Such  was  the  appearance  presented  in 
that  summer  of  18G4,  my  dear  reader,  by  two  of  the  most  elegant 
and  "  aristocratic  "  young  ladies  of  Virginia! 

But  you  did  not  look  at  the  calicoes,  and  soon  forgot  the  holes 
in  the  shoes.  My  bow  was  such  as  I  should  have  bestowed  on 
two  princesses,  and  the  young  ladies  received  it  with  a  grace  and 
courtesy  which  were  charming. 

In  ten  minutes  we  were  all  talking  like  old  friends,  and  the 
young  ladies  were  making  tea. 

This  was  soon  ready;  some  bread,  without  butter,  was  placed 
upon  the  little  table ;  and  the  meal  was  the  most  cheerful  and 
happy  imaginable.  "  Oh,  my  dear  Mr.  Blocque!"  I  could  not 
help  saying  to  myself,  "keep  your  champagne,  and  canvass-backs, 
and  every  luxury,  and  welcome !  I  like  dry  bread  and  tea,  with 
this  company,  better!" 

I  have  not  room  to  repeat  the  charming  words,  mingled  with 
laughter,  of  the  young  women,  on  that  evening.  Their  presence 
vras  truly  like  sunshine,  and  you  could  see  the  reflection  of  it  upon 
the  old  statesman's  countenance. 

Only  once  that  countenance  was  overshadowed.  I  had  uttered 
the  name  of  "Willie  Davenant,  by  accident;  and  then  all  at  once 
remembering  the  scene  at   Culpcper   Court-House,  had   looked 


UNDER    THE    CROSSED    SWORDS.        245 

quietly  at  Judge  Conway  and  Miss  Virginia.  A  deep  frown  was 
on  liis  face-that  of  the  young  girl  was  crimson  with  blushes,  and 
two  tears  came  to  her  eyes,  as  she  caught  her  father's  glance  of 

displeasure.  ,      .  , 

I  hastened  to  change  the  topic-to  banish  the  dangerous  sub- 
iect-  and  in  a  few  moments  everybody  was  smiling  once  more. 
Aliss' Georgia,  in  her  stately  and  amusing  way,  was  relatmg  their 
experiences  from  a  scouting  party  of  the  enemy,  at  "  Five  Forks. 

"I  heard  something  of  this  from  old  Juba,|^'  said  the  Judge ; 
"you  do  not  mention  your  deliverer,  however." 

"Our  deliverer,  papa?" 

"  General  Mohun." 

Mi-^s  Georgia  unmistakably  blushed  in  her  turn. 

"Oh  I  forgot!"  she  said,  carelessly,  "General  Mohun  did 
drive  them  off.  Did  I  not  mention  it?— I  should  have  done  so 
before  finishing,  papa." 

As  she  spoke,  the  young  lady  happened  to  catch  my  eye.  I 
was  lau-hing  quietly.  Thereupon  her  head  rose  in  a  stately  way 
_a  deci'ded  pout  succeeded— finally,  she  burst  into  laughter. 

The  puzzled  expression  of  the  old  Judge  completed  the  comedy 
of  the  occasion-we  all  laughed  in  a  perfectly  absurd  and  foolish 
way-and  the  rest  of  the  evening  passed  in  the  most  cheertul 

manner  imaginable. 

When  I  bade  mv  friends  good  evening,  I  knew  something  i 
had  not  known  before -.-namely,  that  Mohun  the  woman-hater, 
had  renewed  his  "friendly  relations"  with  Miss  Georgia  Conway, 
at  her  home  in  Dinwiddle. 

Exchangina-  a  pressure  of  the  hand  with  my  host  and  his 
charming  daughters,  I  bade  them  good  evening,  and  returned 
homeward.  As  I  went  along,  I  thought  of  the  happy  circle  I 
had  left;  and  again  I  could  not  refrain  from  drawing  the  com- 
parison between  Judge  Conway  and  Mr.  Blocque.  ,         _ 

At  the  fine  house  of  the  blockade-runner-champagne,  rich 
viands,  wax-lights,  gold  and  silver,  and  profuse  luxury. 

At  the  poor  lodgings  of  the  great  itatesman,~a  cup  of  tea  and 
cold  bread;  stately  courtesy  from  my  host,  charming  smiles  from 
his  beautiful  daughters,  clad  in  calico,  with  worn-out  shoes-and 
above  the  simple  happy  group,  the  crossed  swords  of  the  brave 
youths  who  bad  fallen  at  Manassas ! 


246  MOHUN. 

VIII. 

MR.    X 


It  was  past  ten  in  the  evening  when  I  left  Judge  Conway. 
But  I  felt  no  disposition  to  retire;  and  determined  to  pay  a  visit 
to  a  singular  character  of  my  acquaintance. 

The  name  of  this  gentleman  was  Mr.  X . 

Looking  back  now  to  the  days  spent  in  Richmond,  in  that  curious 
summer  of  '64,  I  recall,  among  the  representative  personages 
whom  I  encountered,  no  individual  more  remarkable  than  the 

Honorable    Mr.    X .      You    are    acquainted    with    him,    my 

dear  reader,  either  personally  or  by  re])utation,  fur  he  was  a 
prominent  official  of  the  Confederate  Governtnent,  and,  before 
the  war,  had  been  famous  in  the  councils  of  "the  nation." 

He  resided  at  this  time  in  a  small  house,  on  a  street  near  the 
capitol.  You  gained  access  to  his  apartment  after  night — if  yoa 
knew  the  way — by  a  winding  path,  through  shrubbery,  to  the 
back  door  of  the  mansion.  When  yon  entered,  you  found  your- 
self in  presence  of  a  tall,  powerful,  gray-haired  and  very  courteous 
personage,  who  sat  in  a  huge  arm-chair,  near  a  table  littered 
with  papers,  and  smoked,  meditatively,  a  cigar,  the  flavor  of  which 
indicated  its  excellent  quality. 

I  enjoyed  the  intimacy  of  Mr.  X in  spite  of  the  difference 

of  our  ages  and  positions.  He  had  been  the  friend  of  my  father, 
and,  in  my  turn,  did  me  the  honor  to  bestow  his  friendslnp  upon 
me.  On  this  evening  I  was  seized  with  the  fancy  to  visit  him — 
and  passing  through  the  grounds  of  the  capitol,  where  the  bronze 
Washington  and  his  great  companions  looked  silently  out  into  the 
moonlight,  reached  the  small  house,  followed  the  path  through 
the  shrabbery,  and  opening  the  door  in  the  rear,  found  myself  sud- 
denly enveloped  in  a  cloud  of  cigar  smoke,  through  which  loomed 
the  portly  figure  of  Mr.  X . 

He  was  seated,  as  usual,  in  his  large  arm-chair,  by  the  table, 
covered  with  papers  ;  and  a  small  bell  near  his  hand  seemed 
placed  there  for  the  convenience  of  summoning  an  attendant, 
without  tlife  trb'uble  of  rising.     Ncfar  thfe  Veil   lay  a  p'abkag'e  of 


ME.    X .  247 

foiciji-n-looking  documents.  Near  the  documents  lay  a  pile  of 
telegraphic  dispatches.  In  the  appearance  and  surroundings  of 
this  man  vou  read  "Power." 

Mr.  X received  me  with  easy  cordiality. 

''  Glad  to  see  you,  my  dear  colonel,"  he  said,  rising  and  sliaking 
my  hand;  then  sinking  back  in  his  chair,  "take  a  cigar,  and  tell 
me  the  news." 

I  sat  down, — having  declined  the  proffered  cigar. 

"The  news!"  I  said,  laughing  ;   "I  ought  to  ask  that  of  you." 

"Ah!  you  think  I  am  well-informed?" 

I  pointed  to  the  dispatches.  Mr.  X shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Papers  from  England  and  France — they  are  not  going  to  re- 
cognize us.  And  those  telegrams — nothing.  "We  get  little  that 
is  worth  attention,  except  a  line  now  and  then,  signed  '  K.  E. 
Lee.' " 

"  Well,  there  is  that  signature,"  I  said,  pointing  to  an  open 
paper. 

"  It  is  a  private  letter  to  me — but  do  you  wish  to  see  a  line 
■^rhich  I  have  just  received?     It  is  interesting,  I  assure  you. 

And  he  handed  me  a  paper. 

It  was  a  telegram  announcing  the  fall  of  Atlanta ! 

"Good  heavens!"  I  said,  "is  it  possible?  Then  there  is 
nothing  to  stop  Sherman.  " 

"ISTothing  whatever,"  said  Mr.  X ,  coolly. 

"What  will  be  the  consequence?" 

"The  Confederacy  will  be  cut  in  two.  Sherman  will  be  at 
Savannah  before  Grant  reaches  the  Southside  road — or  as  soon, 
at  least." 

"  You  think  Grant  will  reach  that  ?" 

"Yes,  by  April ;  and  then — you  know  what !" 

"  But  Lee  will  protect  it." 

Mr.  X shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  a  secret  ?" 

I  listened. 

"  Lee's  force  is  less  than  50,000 — next  spring  it  will  not  number 
40,000.     Grant's  will  be  at  least  four  times  that." 

"Why  can  not  our  army  be  re-enforced?" 

Mr.  X — —  helped  himself  to  a  fresh  cigar. 
11 


248  MOHUN. 

"  The  people  are  tired,  and  the  conscript  officers  are  playing  a 
farce,"  he  said.  "  The  commissary  department  gives  the  army  a 
quarter  of  a  pound  of  rancid  meat.  That  even  often  fails,  for  the 
quartermaster's  department  does  not  supply  it.  The  result  is 
— no  conscripts,  and  a  thousand  desertions.  The  soldiers  are 
starving ;  their  wives  and  children  are  writing  them  letters  that 
drive  them  mad — the  end  is  not  far  off;  and  when  Grant  reaches 
the  Southside  road  we  are  gone." 

Mr.  X smoked  his  cigar  with   extreme   calmness   as  he 

spoke. 

"But  one  thing  remains,"  I  said. 

"What  is  that?" 

"Lee  wilhretreat  from  Virginia." 

Mr.  X shook  his  head. 

"He  will  not." 

"Why  not?" 

"He  will  be  prevented  from  doing  so." 

"Under  any  circumstances?" 

"  Until  too  late,  at  least." 

"And  the  result?" 

"Surrender — though,  he  said  to  me  the  other  day,  when  he 
came  to  see  me  here,  'For  myself,  I  intend  to  die  sword  in 
hand.'  " 

I  could  not  refrain  from  a  sentiment  of  profound  gloom,  as  I 
listened  to  these  sombre  predictions.  It  seemed  incredible  that 
they  could  be  well  founded,  but  I  had  more  than  once  had  an 
opportunity  to  remark  the  extraordinary  prescience  of  the  re- 
markable man  with  whom  I  conversed. 

"You  draw  a  black  picture  of  the  future,"  I  said.  "And 
the  South  seems  moving  to  and  fro,  on  the  crust  of  a  volcano." 

"  Xo  metaphor  could  be  more  just." 

"And  what  will  be  the  result  of  the  war?" 

"  That  is  easy  to  reply  to.  Political  slavery,  negro  suffrage,  and 
the  bayonet,  until  the  new  leaven  works." 

"  The  new  leaven  ?" 

"  The  conviction  that  democratic  government  is  a  failure." 

"  And  then— ?" 

"An   emperor,    or   dictator — call   him   what  you   will.     The 


MR.    X 249 

main  fact  is,  that  he  will  rule  the  country  by  the  bayonet— North 
and  South  impartially." 

Mr.  X lit  a  fresh  cigar. 

"  Thin-3  are  going  on  straight  to  that,"  he  said.  "  The  futare 
is  perfectly  plain  to  me,  for  I  read  it  in  the  light  of  history. 
These  events  are  going  to  follow  step  by  step.  Lee  is  brave- 
no  man  is  braver  ;•  a  great  leader.  I  think  him  one  of  the  first 
captains  of  the  world.  Bat  in  spite  of  his  courage  and  skill-m 
spite  of  the  heroism  of  his  army-in  spite  of  the  high  character 
and  pure  motives  of  the  president-we  are  going  to  tail  ihen 
the  rest  will  follow-negro  suffrage  and  the  bayonet.  Then  the 
third  era  will  begin-the  disgust  of  the  white  man  at  the  equality 
of  the  negro ;  his  distrust  of  a  government  which  makes  such  a 
farce  possible;  consequent  revulsion  against  democracy;  a  ten- 
dencv  toward  monarchy;  a  king,  emperor  or  dictator,  who  will 
restore  order  out  of  the  chaos  of  misrule  and  madness.  England 
is  ru.hing  toward  a  democracy,  America  is  hastening  to  become 
an  empire.  For  my  own  part  I  think  I  prefer  the  imperial  to  the 
popular  idea-Imperato'r  to  Demos.     It  is  a  matter  of  taste,  how- 


ever." 


11 
And  Mr.  X turned  his  head,  calling  out,  calmly, 

''Come  in!"       .  ,  .        ^     ti 

The  door  opened  and  a  stranger  glided  into  the  apartment.  He 
was  clad  in  a  blue  Federal  uniform,  half-concealed  by  a  brown 
linen  overall.  His  face  was  almost  covered  by  a  red  beard  ;  his 
lips  by  a  mustache  of  the  same  color ;  and  his  eyes  disappeared 
behind  huge  green  goggles.  , 

"  Come  in,"  repeated  Mr.  X ,  who  seemed  to  recogmzethe 

intruder;  "  what  news?" 

The  personage  glanced  quickly  at  me. 

"  Speak  before  him,'"  said  Mr.  X ,  "  he  is  a  friend. 

"lam  very  well  acquainted  with  Colonel  Surry,"  said  the 
other,  smiling,  "  and  have  the  honor  to  number  him,  I  hope, 
among  mv  own  friends." 

With  which  words,  the  new-comer  quietly  removed  his  red 
beard,  took  off  his  green  spectacles,  and  I  saw  before  me  no  less 
a  personage  than  Mr.  Xighthawk  ! 


250  '  MOHUN. 

IX. 

"SEND    ME    A    COPY.— IN    CxVNADA!" 

Nothing  was  more  surprising  in  this  singular  man  than  these 
sudden  appearances  at  places  and  times  when  you  least  expected 
him. 

I  had  parted  with  him  in  Spottsylvania,  on  the  night  when  he 
"deserted"  from  the  enemy,  and  rode  into  our  lines;  and  he  was 
then  the  secret  agent  of  General  Stuart.  Now,  he  reappeared  in 
the  city  of  Richmond,  with  an  excellent  understanding,  it  was 
evident,  between  himself  and  Mr,  X ! 

Our  greeting  was  cordial,  and  indeed  I  never  had  classed  Night- 
hawk  among  professional  spies.  General  Stuart  assured  me  one 
day,  that  he  invariably  refused  all  reward;  and  his  profound, 
almost  romantic  devotion  to  Mohun,  had  deeply  impressed  me. 
Love  of  country  and  watchful  care  of  the  young  cavalier,  whose 
past  life  was  as  mysterious  as  his  own,  seemed  the  control- 
ling sentiments  of  Nighthawk  ;  and  he  always  presented  himself 
to  me  rather  in  the  light  of  a  political  conspirator,  than  as  a 
"  spy." 

His  first  words  now  indicated  that  he  was  a  secret  agent  of  the 
Government.  He  seemed  to  have  been  everywhere,  and  gained 
access  to  everybody;  and  once  more,  as  in  June,  1863,  when  he 
appeared  at  Stuart's  head- quarters,  near  Middleburg,  he  aston- 
ished me  by  the  accuracy  and  extent  of  his  information.  Political 
and  military  secrets  of  the  highest  importance,  and  calling  for 
urgent  action  on  the  part  of  the  Government,  were  detailed  by 
Nighthawk,  in  his  calm  and  benignant  voice ;  he  gave  us  an  ac- 
count of  a  long  interview  which  he  had  had  at  City  Point,  with 
General  Grant ;  and  wound  up  as  usual  by  announcing  an  im- 
pending battle — a  movement  of  the  enemy,  which  duly  took  place 
as  he  announced. 

Mr.  X listened  with  close  attention,  asking  few  questions. 

When  Nighthawk  had  made  his  report,  the  statesman  looked 
at  his  watch,  said,  sotto  voce^  "  Midnight — too  late,"  and  added 
jdoud : — 


THE    WAY    THE    MONEY    WEXT.  251 

"  Come  back  at  ten  to-morrow  morning,  my  friend  ;  your  in- 
formation is  higlily  interesting  and  important." 

iSTighthawk  rose,  and  I  did  likewise,  declining  the  courteous  re- 
quest  of  Mr.   X to  prolong    my  visit.     He  held    the   door 

open  with  great  politeness  and  said,  smiling: — 

"  I  need  not  say,  my  dear  colonel,  that  the  views  I  have  ex- 
pressed this  evening  are  confidential — for  the  present,  at  least." 

"Assuredly,"  I  replied,  with  a  bow  and  a  smile. 

"Hereafter  you  are  at  liberty  to   repeat  them,  if  you  wish, 

only  I  beg  you  will  ascribe   them  to   Mr.  X ,  an   unknown 

quantity.  If  you  write  a  book,  and  put  me  in  it,  send  me  a 
copy — in  Canada!" 

A  moment  afterward  I  was  wending  my  way  through  the 
shrubbery,  thinking  of  the  curious  personage  I  had  left. 

At  the  gate  Xighthawk  awaited  me,  and  I  scarcely  recognized 
him.     He  had  resumed  his  red  beard,  and  green  glasses. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you  again,  colonel,"  he  said  benignantly ;  "I 
heard  that  you  were  in  the  city  and  called  at  your  lodgings,  but 
found  you  absent," 

"You  wished  to  see  me  particularly,  then,  Nighthawk." 

"  Yes,  and  to-night,  colonel." 

"Ah!" 

"I  know  you  are  a  friend  of  General  Mohun's." 

"A  very  sincere  friend." 

"  "Well,  I  think  we  will  be  able  to  do  him  a  very  great  service 
by  attending  to  a  little  matter  in  which  he  is  interested,  colonel. 
Are  you  disengaged,  and  wiUing  to  accompany  me?" 


X. 

« 

THE   WAY   THE    MOXEY   WENT. 

I  LOOKED  intently  at  iSTighthawk.  He  was  evidently  very 
much  in  earnest. 

"  I  am  entirely  disengaged,  and  perfectly  willing  to  accompany 
you,"  I  said;    "but  where?" 


252  MOHUN. 

Nighthawk  smiled. 

"You  know  I  am  a  mysterious  person,  colonel,  both  by  char- 
acter and  profession.  I  fear  the  habit  is  growing  on  me,  in 
spite  of  every  exertion  I  make.  I  predict  I  will  end  by  burning 
my  coat,  for  fear  it  will  tell  some  of  my  secrets." 

"  Well,"  I  said  with  a  smile,  ''keep  your  secret  then,  and  lead 
the  way.     I  am  ready  to  go  far  to  oblige  Yohun  in  any  thing." 

"I  thank  vou,  colonel,  from  my  heart.  You  have  only  to 
follow  me." 

And  Nighthawk  set  out  at  a  rapid  pace,  through  the  grounds 
of  the  capitol,  toward  the  lower  part  of  the  city. 

There  was  something  as  singular  about  the  walk  of  my  com- 
panion, as  about  his  appearance.  He  went  at  a  great  pace,  but  his 
progress  was  entirely  noiseless.  You  would  have  said  that  he 
was  skimming  along  ujjon  invisible  wings. 

In  an  incredibly  short  time  we  had  reached  a  street  below  the 
capitol,  and  my  companion,  who  had  walked  straight  on  without 
turning  his  head  to  the  right  or  the  left,  all  at  once  paused 
before  a  tall  and  dingy-looking  house,  which  would  have  ap- 
peared completely  uninhabited,  except  for  a  bright  red  light 
which  shone  through  a  circular  opening  in  the  door. 

At  this  door  Nighthawk  gave  a  single  tap.  The  glass  cover- 
ing the  circular  space  glided  back,  and  a  face  reconnoitred.  My 
companion  uttered  two  words;  and  the  door  opened,  giving  ac- 
cess to  a  stairs,  which  we  ascended,  the  janitor  having  already 
disappeared. 

At  the  head  of  the  stairs  was  a  door  which  Nighthawk  opened, 
and  we  found  ourselves  in  an  apartment  where  a  dozen  persons 
were  playing  faro. 

Upon  these  Nighthawk  threw  a  rapid  glance — some  one 
whom  he  appeared  to  be  seeking,  was  evidently  not  among  the 
players. 

Another  moment  he  returned  through  the  door,  t  following, 
and  we  ascended  a  second  flight  of  stairs,  at  the  top  of  which  was 
a  second  door.  Here  another  janitor  barred  the  way,  but  my 
companion  again  uttered  some  low  words, — the  door  opened  ; 
a  niagnificently  lit  apartment,  with  a  buffet  of  liquors,  and 
every  edible,  presented  itself  before  us;  and  in  the  midst  of  a 


THE    WAY    THE    MONEY    WENT.  053 

dozen  personages,  who  were  playing  furiously,  I  recognized— Mr. 
Blocque,  Mr.  Croker,  Mr.  Torpedo,  and  Colonel  Desperado. 

For  some  moments  I  stood  watching  the  spectacle,  and  it  very 
considerably  enlarged  my  experience.  Before  me  I  saw  promi- 
nent politicians,  officers  of  liigh  rank,  employees  of  government 
holding  responsible  positions,  all  gambling  with  an  ardor  that 
amounted  to  fury.  One  gentleman  in  uniform— apparently  of 
the  quartermaster's  department— held  in  his  hand  a  huge  package 
ot  Confederate  notes,  of  the  denominations,  of  $100  and  $500,  and 
this  worthy  staked,  twice,  the  pretty  little  amount  of  $10,000 
upon  a  card,  and  each  time  lost. 

The  play  so  absorbed  the  soldiers,  lawgivers,  and  law-admin- 
istrators, that  our  presence  was  unperceived.  My  friend,  Mr. 
Blocque,  did  not  turn  his  head ;  Mr.  Croker,  Mr.  Torpedo,  and 
Colonel  Desperade,  were  red  in  the  face  and  oblivious. 

After  that  evening  I  knew  where  some  of  the  public  money 

went. 

As  I  was  looking  at  the  strange  scene  of  reckless  excitement, 
one  of  the  players,  a  portly  individual  with  black  mustache, 
rich  dark  curls,  gold  spectacles,  and  wearing  a  fine  suit  of  broad- 
cloth-rose and  looked  toward  us.  Nighthawk  was  already  gaz- 
ing at  him  ;  and  suddenly  I  saw  their  glances  cross  like  steel  rapiers. 
They  had  evidently  recognized  each  other ;  and  going  up  to  the 
gentleman  of  the  spectacles,  Nighthawk  said  a  few  words  in  a 
low  voice,  which  I  did  not  distinguish. 

"  With  pleasure,  my  dear  friend,"  said  the  portly  gentleman, 
"but  you  are  sure  you  are  not  provided  with  a  detective  of 
General  Winder's?" 

"  Can  you  believe  such  a  thing?"  returned Xighthawk,  reproach- 
fully. 

"  I  thought  it  possible  you  might  have  one  waitmg  below  ;  but 

if  you  give  me  your  word,  Nighthawk — " 

And  without  further  objection  the  worthy  followed  Nighthawk 

and  myself  down  the  stairs. 

As  we  approached  the  outer  door,  the  invisible  janitor  opened 
it;  we  issued  forth  into  the  street ;  and  the  portly  gentleman,  fix- 
ing a  keen  look  upon  me   in  the  clear  moonlight,  said  : — 

"  I  believe  we  have  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  before,  colonel." 


254  MOHUN. 

"I  am  ashamed  to  say  I  do  not  remember  -where,  sir,"  I  said. 

"My  memory  is  better,  colonel;  we  met  last  May,  in  a  hous© 
in  the  Wilderness,  near  Chancellorsville." 

"Is  it  possible  that  you  are — " 

"  Swartz,  very  much  at  your  service.  It  is  wonderful  what  a 
diflference  is  made  by  a  wig  and  spectacles!" 

As  he  spoke,  he  gracefully  removed  his  black  wig  and  the 
gold  spectacles.  In  the  man  with  gray  hair,  small  eyes,  and 
double  chin,  I  recognized  the  spy  of  the  Wilderness. 


XI. 

THE    PASS. 

Replacing  his  wig  and  spectacles,  Mr.  Swartz  smiled  in  a 
good-humored  manner,  and  said  : — 

"  May  I  ask  to  what  I  am  indebted  for  this  visit?" 

Nighthawk  replied  even  more  blandly : — 

"  I  wish  to  have  a  conversation  with  you,  my  dear  Swartz,  be- 
fore arresting  you." 

"Ah!  you  intend  to  arrest  me!" 

"  Unless  you  make  it  unnecessary." 

"How?" 

"By  producing  the  paper  which  Ave  spoke  of  in  the  Wilder- 
ness," said  Nidithawk,  brieflv. 

Swartz  shook  his  head. 

"  That  is  not  in  my  power,  my  friend.  I  did  not  bring  it  with 
me." 

"  Will  you  think  me  very  impolite  if  I  say  I  do  not  believe 
Tou,  my  dear  Swartz?" 

Swartz  smiled. 

"  Well,  that  would  be  speaking  without  ceremony,  my  friend — 
but  I  assure  you  I  am  unable  to  do  as  you  desire." 

"Aha!  you  repeat  that  curious  statement,  my  dear  Swartz! 
Well,  oblige  me  by  accompanying  me  to  the  provost  marshars." 

"  You  arrest  me?" 

"Precisely." 


THE    PASS.  255 

"As  a  spy?" 

"Whvnot?" 

" It  is  impossible,  Nighthawk!" 

"You  resist?" 

''I  might  do  so." 

And,  opening  his  coat,  Mr.  Swartz  exhibited  a  bowie-knife  and 
revolver. 

"  I  show  you  these  little  toys,"  said  he,  laughing  good-humor- 
edly,  "to  let  you  see,  my  friend,  that  I  might  oppose  your 
project — and  you  know  I  am  not  backward  in  using  them  on 
occasion.  But  I  make  a  difference.  You  are  not  a  common 
police-officer  or  detective,  Xighthawk — you  are  a  friend  and 
comrade,  and  I  am  going  to  prove  that  I  appreciate  your  feelings, 
and  respect  your  wishes." 

K'ighthawk  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  speaker  and  listened. " 

"  You  are  a  friend  of  General  Mohun's,"  said  Mr.  Swartz,  witli 
bland  good  humor  ;  "you  wish  to  secure  a  certain  document  in 
which  he  is  interested  ;  you  fancy  I  have  that  document  here  in 
the  city  ofPdchmond;  and  your  object,  very  naturally,  is  to  force 
me  to  surrender  it.  Well,  I  do  not  object  to  doing  so — for  a 
consideration.  I  fully  intend  to  produce  it,  when  my  terms  are 
accepted.  I  would  have  stated  them  to  you  in  the  TTilderness, 
but  you  were  unable  to  meet  me — or  to  General  Moliun,  but  his 
violence  defeated  every  thing.  You  meet  me  now,  and  without 
discussion,  demand  the  paper.  I  reply,  that  I  have  not  brought 
it  with  me,  but  three  days  from  this  time  will  meet  you  at  a  spot 
agreed  on,  with  the  document,  for  which  you  will  return  me — 
my  consideration." 

Xighthawk  shook  his  head. 

"  Unfortunately,  my  dear  Swartz,  experience  tells  me  that  the 
present  is  always  the  best  time  for  business— that  '  a  bird  in  the 
hand  is  worth  two  in  the  bush.'  " 

Mr.  Swartz  smiled  sweetly. 

"  And  I  am  the  bird  in  your  hand  ?" 

"  Something  like  it." 

*'I  am  a  spy?" 

"Don't  use  hard  names,  mv  friend." 

"By  no  means,  my  dear  Nighthawk,  and  if  I  have  hurt  your 
11* 


256  MOHUN. 

feelings,  I  deeply  regret  it.  But  I  am  spenking  to  the  point. 
You  regard  me  as  a  Federal  spy,  lurking  in  Richmond — you  pene- 
trate my  disguise,  and  are  going  to  arrest  me,  and  search  my  lodg- 
ings for  that  paper." 

"  The  necessity  is  painful,"  said  Xighthawk. 

*'  It  is  useless,  my  friend." 

"  I  will  try  it." 

Swartz  smiled,  and  drew  a  paper  from  his  pocket,  which  he 
■unfolded. 

"  You  are  then  determined  to  arrest  your  old  comrade,  Night- 
hawk." 

"  Yes,  my  dear  Swartz." 

"As  a  spy?" 

"Exactly." 

"In  spite  of  this  ?" 

And  Mr.  Swartz  held  out  the  paper. 

"  Do  me  the  favor  to  read  this,  colonel,  and  then  oblige  me  by 
returning  it." 

I  took  the  paper,  and  easily  read  it  by  moonlight.  It  con- 
tained the  following  words  : — 

"The  bearer  is  employed  on  secret  service,  by  the  Confederate 
Government,  and  will  not  be  molested." 

The  paper  was  signed  by  a  personage  of  high  position  in  the 
government,  and  was  stamped  with  the  seal  of  the  department 
over  which  he  presided.  Tliere  could  be  no  doubt  of  the  genu- 
ineness of  thft  paper.  The  worthy  Mr.  Swartz  loomed  up  before 
me  in  the  novel  and  unexpected  light  of  a  Confederate  emissary! 

I  read  the  paper  aloud  to  Nighthawk,  and  pointed  to  the  official 
signature  and  seal. 

Nighthawk  uttered  a  groan,  and  his  chin  sank  upon  his  breast. 

That  spectacle  seemed  to  excite  the  sympathy  of  his  friend. 

"  There,  mv  dear  yi2;hthawk,"  said  Mr.  Swartz,  in  a  feeling 
tone,  "  don't  take  the  blow  too  much  to  heart.  I  have  beaten 
you,  this  game,  and  your  hands  are  tied  at  present.  But  I  swear 
that  I  will  meet  you,  and  produce  that  paper." 

"  When?"  murmured  Xighthawk. 

"  In  three  days  from  this  time." 

"  Where  ?" 


THE   GRAVE    OF    STUART.  257 

"At  the  house  of  our  friend  Alibi,  near  Monk's  Xeck,  in  Diii- 
widdie." 

"  On  your  word?" 

"  On  the  word  of  Swartz!" 

"Tliat  is  enoufl^h,  my  dear  Swartz;  I  \\\l\  be  at  Alibi's,  when 
we  will  come  to  terms.  And  now,  pardon  this  visit,  which  has 
put  you  to  so  much  inconvenience.  I  was  merely  jesting,  my  dear 
friend,  when  I  spoke  of  arresting  yoji.  Arrest  you !  Nothing 
could  induce  me  to  think  of  so  unfriendly  a  proceeding.  And 
now,  goodnight,  my  dear  friend.  I  will  return  with  you,  colonel." 

"With  which  words Nighthawk  saluted  his  "friend,"  and  we  re- 
turned toward  the  upper  part  of  the  city. 

Such  were  the  scenes  of  a  night  in  the  summer  of  1864 


XIL 

THE   GRA^T:   of  STUART. 

On  the  next  morning  a  piece  of  good  fortune  befell  me.  In 
spite  of  continued  visits  to  the  war-ofiBce,  and  an  amount  of  im- 
portunity which  must  have  been  exceedingly  annoying  to  the 
gentlemen  of  the  red  tape,  I  found  myself,  at  the  end  of  August, 
apparently  no  nearer  to  an  "  assignment  to  duty  "  than  at  first. 

It  reallv  seemed  that  the  Confederate  States  had  no  need  of  mv 
services  ;  that  the  privilege  of  performing  military  duty  in  behalf 
of  the  Government  was  one  jealously  guarded,  and  not  to  be  liglit- 
ly  bestowed  upon  any  one.  I  was  in  despair,  and  was  revolving 
the  project  of  resigning  ray  empty  commission,  and  enlisting  in 
the  cavalry  as  a  private  soldier,  when  the  deus  ex  machind  to 
extricate  me  from  all  my  troubles,  appeared  in  the  person  of  Col- 
onel P ,  of  army  head-quarters. 

This  accomplished  soldier  and  gentleman  met  me  as  I  was  com- 
ing out  of  the  war-office,  on  the  morning  after  the  visit  to  Mr. 

X ,   looking    I    suppose,   like  some  descendant  of  the  Knight 

of  the  Sorrowful  Countenance,  and  stopped  to  inquire  the  cause  of 


258  MOHUN. 

my  dejection.    I  informed  him  of  the  whole  affair,  and  he  laughed 
heartily. 

"  You  have  set  about  your  affairs,  my  dear  colonel,  in  a  manner 
entirely  wrong,"  he  said.  ''  You  should  have  gone  to  some  gen- 
eral, discovered  that  your  grandmother  and  his  own  were  third 
cousins;  expressed  your  admiration  of  his  valor;  denounced  the 
brother-general  with  whom  he  was  quarreling;  written  puffs  to 
the  papers  about  him ;  and  then,  one  morning  said,  '  By  the  by, 
general,  you  are  entitled 'to  another  staff  oflficer.'  The  result 
would  have  been  a  glowing  letter  to  the  war  department,  request- 
ing your  assignment — you  would  have  attained  your  object — you 
Avould  have  been  torn  from  the  horrors  of  Richmond,  and  once 
more  enjoyed  the  great  privilege  of  being  shot  at!" 

I  echoed  the  colonel's  laugh. 

"  Alas  I"  I  said,  "  I  have  no  genius  for  all  that.  I  never  yet  could 
'crook  the  hinges  of  the  knee  that  thrift  might  follow  fawning,' 
and  I  suppose  I  shall  be  compelled  to  resign,  and  enter  the  ranks. 
Why  not  ?  Better  men  are  there,  carrying  musket  or  carbine,  or 
pulling  the  lanyard." 

'"Still  you  gained  your  rank  by  your  services — and  I  am  going 
to  make  you  an  offer  which  will  enable  you  to  retain  it.  Come 
and  be  my  assistant  inspector-general — an  officer  is  required  to 
inspect  the  cavalry  and  horse  artillery,  which  is  so  distant,  often, 
that  I  have  no  time  to  visit  them." 

"  A  thousand  thanks,  colonel  I  You  could  not  offer  me  a  more 
pleasant  duty." 

"  You  will  have  to  ride  a  great  deal,  but  will  have  a  great  deal 
of  freedom.  If  you  consent  to  my  proposition,  I  will  have  the 
matter  arranged  at  once,  and  will  request  you  to  make  a  tour  of 
inspection  to  General  Early's  army,  near  Winchester." 

He  looked  at  me,  laughing. 

"  'The  Oaks  '  is  a  charming  place,"  he  added,  "and  you  are 
certain  to  be  very  tired  when  you  reach  the  vicinity  of  Mark- 
liam's!  If  you  find  it  convenient  to  stop  there — say,  for  a  day 
or  more — present  my  regards  to  Colonel  Beverly,  and  any  of  the 
family  you  find  present  I" 

With  which  words  he  laughed  again,  shook  me  bv  the  hand,  and 
then  his  tall  form  disappeared  in  the  doorwav  ol  the  war  office. 


THE    GRAVE    OF    STUART.  259 


* 


On  the  next  day  I  found  my  assignment  awaiting  me.  I  was 
appointed  assistant  inspector-general  of  the  cavalry  and  horse 
artillery  of  the  army  of  Northern  Virginia.     Tremendous  title  ! 

That  evening  I  went  hy  railway  to  Petersburg,  to  visit  Colonel 

P ,  and  receive  his  instructions.     Returning  the  same  night, 

the  nest  day  set  out  on  horseback  for  the  Valley  of  the  Shen- 
andoah, by  way  of  Orange,  Gaines's  Cross  Roads,  and  Ashby'sGap. 

Of  this  journey  it  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  speak  in  the  present 
volume.  Some  curious  adventures  occurred  to  me,  in  the  valley, 
near  Millwood,  and  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  St.  Leger  Lan- 
don,  of  "Bizarre,"  one  of  the  bravest  and  truest  gentlemen  I 
have  ever  known.  The  adventures  alluded  to,  and  some  events  in 
the  strange  history  of  my  friend,  Captain  Landon,  are  embraced 
in  a  separate  memoir,  to  which  I  have  given  the  fanciful  title,  Hilt 
to  Hilt,  or  Days  and  Niglits  on  the  BanJcs  of  the  Shenandoah, 

I  remained  in  the  valley  from  the  first  to  the  eighteenth  of  Sep- 
tember, when  I  set  out  on  my  return  to  Petersburg,  little  think- 
ing that,  on  the  very  next  day,  General  Early  would  be  attacked 
on  the  Opequan,  driven  from  Winchester,  and  forced  to  retreat 
up  the  valley,  in  spite  of  fighting  which  was  never  surpassed. 

I  had  received  some  rough  handling  in  a  cavalry  combat  near 
the  Old  Chapel,  beyond  Millwood,  and  my  ride  back  was  tedious. 
But  at  last  I  reached  Richmond,  and  made  preparations  to  set 
out  at  once  for  the  army.  On  the  evening  before  my  departure, 
I  went  to  visit  the  grave  of  Stuart  at  Hollywood,  on  the  beauti- 
ful hill  above  the  falls,  west  of  the  city. 

As  I  approached  the  lonely  spot,  where  the  great  cavalier  was 
lying  beside  his  little  Flora,  of  whom  he  had  often  spoken  to  me 
with  tears,  a  thousand  memories  knocked  at  the  door  of  mv 
,  heart.  With  head  bent  down,  and  chin  resting  on  my  breast, 
I  drew  near  the  grassy  mound  over  which  waved  the  autumn 
foliage,  tinted  with  yellow  and  crimson — and  in  these  few  mo- 
ments, all  the  splendid  career  of  Stuart  passed  before  me,  as  on 
that  day  when  I  rode  with  him  toward  the  fatal  field  of  Yellow 
Tavern. 

I  remembered  all  his  hard  combats,  his  a:lorious  encounters,  his 
victories  over  suoh  odds  as  vindicated  his  claim  to  a  descent  from 
the  dashing  Rupert,  and  ranked  him  with  the  most  famous  lead- 


26.0  MOHUN. 

ers  of  cavalry  in  all  history.  I  recalled  the  courage,  tlic  j')y, 
the  gay  laughter  of  the  great  soldier — the  blue  eyes  that  fl  ishvd 
so — the  sonorous  voice  singing  the  merrv  soncrs.  I  remembered 
all  the  occasions  when  he  had  led  his  men  in  the  charge — how 
he  had  wept  for  Jackson,  bowed  his  head  above  the  cold  face  of 
Pelham — how  he  had  met  the  torrent  unmoved,  shrunk  from 
nothing  in  his  patli,  fallen  to  save  the  Virginia  capital,  and  died 
murmuring  "God's  will  be  done!" — I  remembered  all  that,  and 
with  something  in  rny  throat  that  seemed  choking  me,  drew  near 
the  quiet  mound,  beneath  which  rested  such  a  career,  and  so 
much  glory. 

The  birds  were  twittering  and  singing,  the  foliage  waving 
gently — I  raised  my  head — when  suddenly  I  became  aware  that 
a  solitary  mourner  was  bending  over  the  grave. 

He  was  an  officer  in  gray  uniform.  He  held  a  flower  in  his 
hand,  which  he  dropped  upon  the  grave,  uttering  a  low  sob  as  he 
did  so. 

At  the  same  moment  he  turned  round,  and  I  recognized  the 
great  partisan,  Colonel  Mosby.* 


XIII. 

THE    CEDAR: 


TwEXTT-FouR  hours  after,  I  had  passed  over  the  same  number 
of  miles,  and  found  myself  at  the  staff  head-quarters,  on  the  left 
bank  of  the  Appemattox.  above  Petersburg. 

I  had  soon  pitched  my  tent,  with  the  assistance  of  a  servant ; 
had  erected  a  hedge  of  cedar  boughs  to  protect  it  from  the  cut- 
ting blasts  of  the  coming  winter  ;  and,  a  few  rlay  afterwards,  was 
surrounded  with  many  objects  of  comfort.  My  tent  had  been 
floored ;  at  one  end  rose  an  excellent  chimney  ;  strips  of  planks, 
skilfully  balanced  on  two  logs,  supplied  a  spring  bed ;  I  had  se- 
cured a  split  bottom  chair,  and  my  saddle  and  bridle  were  dis- 
posed upon  a  rough  rack,  near  a  black  valise  containing  my  small 
stock  of  apparel,  and  the  pine  table  and  desk  holding  official  papers. 

*  EeaL 


THE    CEDARS.  261 


I 


Having  christened  this  castle  "  The  Cedars,"  I  settled   do^vn 
for  a  long  winter-and  it  was   not  a  great  while  before  I  con- 
gratulated ravself  on  the  good  fortune  which  had  provided  me 
with  that  warm  nest.     More  than  once,  however,  I  experienced 
something  like  a  sentiment   of  shame,   when,  in  the   dark    and 
freezing  nights,  with  the  hail  rattling   on   my  tent,  I  sat  by  my 
warm  fire,  and  heard  the  crack  of  the  sharp-shooters,  along  the 
lines  beyond  Petersburg.     TVhat  right  had  I  to  be  there,  by  that 
blazing  fire,  in  my  warm  tent,  when  my  brethren— many  of  them 
mv  betters— were  yonder,  fighting  along  the  frozen  hills?     What 
had  I  done  to  deserve  that  comfort,  and  exemption  from  all  pain? 
I  was  idling,  or  reading  by  my  blazing  m-e—thei/  were  keeping 
back  the  enemy,  and,  perhaps,  falling  and  dying  in  the  darkness. 
I  was  musing  in  ray  chair,  gazing  into  the  blaze,  and  going  back 
in  memory  to  the  fond  scenes  of  home,  so  clearly,  that  I  laughed 
the  hearth  laugh,  and  was  happy.     And  they?     They,  too,  were 
thinking  of  home,  perhaps,— of  their  wives  and  children,  to  sink 
down  the  next  moment  shivering  with  cold,  or  stagger  and  fall, 
with  spouting  blood,  as  the  bullet  pierced  them.     Why  should  / 
be  thus  favored  by  a  good  Providence  ?     I  often  asked  myself 
that  question,  and  I  could  not  answer  it.     I  could  only  murmur, 
"  I  did  not  sneak  here  to  get  out  of  the  way  of  the  bullets,— those, 
vonder,  are  mv  betters, -God  guard  and  keep  the  brave  soldiers 

of  this  army  I" 

And  now,  worthy  reader,  having  given  you  some  idea  ol  the 
manner  in  which  the  more  fortunate  ones  wintered  near  Peters- 
burg, in  1864,  I  am  going  to  drop  the  subject  of  army  head- 
quarters, and  mv  surroundings  there.  Jackson  and  Stuart  are 
dead,  and  have  become  figures  of  history.  I  have  drawn  them 
as  well  as  I  could,— I  dare  not  attempt  to  do  the  same  with  the 
great  commander  in-chief    He  is  alive.  May  he  live  longl-and, 

saluting  him,  I  pass  on.  .  -,     ,  .     i  • 

So  if  I  speak  of  General  Lee,  it  will  be  of  the  individual  m  his 

official  character.     What  he  utters,  he  will  have  uttered  in  the 

hearing  of  many. 

With   these   words   of    preface,  I   resume  the  thread   of  my 

history. 


2G2  MOHUN. 


XIV. 

THE   SITUATIO:S". 

October,  1864,  had  come. 

The  "situation  "  may  be  described  in  a  few  words. 

Grant  had  drawn  his  hnes  from  a  point  in  Charles  City,  on  tlie 
left  bank  of  James  River,  across  that  streatn  and  across  the  x\p- 
pomattox,  aronnd  Petersburg  to  the  Squirrel  Level  road,  where 
he  threatened  the  Southside  railroad,  Lee's  line  of  communica- 
tion with  the  south  and  west.  Fort  Harrison  had  just  been 
taken.  Grant  was  gradually  hemming  in  his  opponent  along  the 
immense  line  extending  across  the  two  rivers,  past  the  scene 
of  the  famous  "  Crater"  explosion,  to  the  vicinity  of  the  Rowan- 
ty,  a  distance  of  nearly  forty  miles.  One  incessant  crash  and 
thunder  went  up,  day  and  night.  Grant  was  "  hammering  con- 
tinuously," carrying  out  his  programme;  and,  the  military  view 
apart,  never  was  spectacle  more  picturesque  than  that  presented 
in  these  combats. 

The  long  lines  of  works  were  wreathed  with  the  smoke  of 
battle.  The  glare  of  cannon  lit  the  smoke-cloud  ;  mortar  shells 
rose,  described  their  fiery  curves,  and  descended  in  the  trenches, 
and  these  were  saluted  as  they  rose  and  fell  by  the  crack  of  mus- 
ketry, the  roar  of  artillery,  the  echoing  cheers  of  the  blue  and 
gray  people,  who  never  seemed  weary  of  fighting,  yelling,  and 
paying  their  compliments  to  each  other.  At  night  the  spectacle 
was  superb;  the  mortars  were  like  flocks  of  fire-birds,  swooping 
down  upon  their  prey.  The  horizon  glared  at  each  cannon-shot; 
shell  burst  in  vivid  lightnings,  shining  for  a  moment,  then  ex- 
tinguished. And  yonder  object,  like  a  blood-shot  eye,  shining 
grimly  through  the  darkness, — what  is  that?  It  is  a  lamp,  my 
dear  reader,  with  a  transparent  shade  ;  and  on  this  shade  is  writ- 
ten, for  the  information  of  tlie  gray  backs  : — 

"  While  yet  the  lamp  holds  out  to  burn, 
The  vilest  rebel  mav  return.'' 


mohu:n"   AGAIX.  263 

Lee's  lines  faced  Grant's,  following  the  blue  cordon  across  the 
rivers,  aronnd  Petersburg,  toward  the  Southside  railroad. 

Beyond  the  right  of  the  Confederate  infantry  stretched  the 
cavalry,  which  consisted  of  the  divisions  of  Wade  Hampton  and 
W.  H.  F.  Lee, — the  former  commanding.  Fitz  Lee,  with  his 
division,  was  in  the  Valley. 

Such,  reader  was  the  situation, when  I  joined  the  army.  The 
great  fifth  act  of  the  tragic  drama  was  approaching. 


XV. 

MOHUI^    AGAIK 


Three  days  after  my  arrival,  I  mounted  my  horse,  crossed  the 
Appomattox,  followed  the  Boydton  road,  struck  southward  at 
the  Quaker  road,  and  soon  found  myself  in  the  heart  of  the 
shadowy  pine  woods  of  that  singular  country,  Dinwiddle. 

My  oflScial  duty  was  to  inspect  and  report  the  condition  of  the 
cavalry  and  horse  artillery  of  the  army  at  the  beginning  and 
middle  of  each  month.  And  now,  first  assuring  the  reader  that 
I  performed  my  duty  in  all  weather,  and  amid  every  difiiculty, 
I  will  drop  the  official  phase  of  my  history,  and  proceed  to  mat- 
ters rather  more  entertaining. 

On  the  day  after  ray  departure  from  Petersburg,  I  had  made  my 
inspections,  and  was  returning. 

I  had  been  received  by  my  old  friends  of  the  cavalry  with  every 
mark  of  cordial  regard.  General  Hampton,  General  Lee,  and  the 
various  officers  and  men  whom  I  had  known  as  a  stafi'-officer  of 
General  Stuart,  seemed  to  welcome  the  sight  of  a  face  which, 
perhaps,  reminded  them  of  their  dead  leader ;  and  I  had  pressed 
all  these  warm  hands,  and  received  these  friendly  greetings  not 
without  emotion — for  I,  too,  was  carried  back  to  the  past. 

I  saw  Mordaunt  and  Davenant,  but  not  Mohun — he  was  absent, 
visiting  his  picket  line.  Mordaunt  was  the  same  stately  soldier — 
his  grave  and  friendly  voice  greeted  me  warmly  as  in  old  days ; 
and  Willie  Davenant,  now  a  major,  commanding  a  battalion  of 


264  M  0  H  U  N . 

liorse  artillery,  shook  h.nnds  with  me,  as  shy  and  blushing  as  be- 
fore— and  even  more  sad. 

"How  had  his  suit  prospered?  "Were  things  more  encour- 
aging?" 

I  asked  him  these  questions  with  a  laugh,  apologizing  for  my 
intrusion. 

He  assured  me  sadly  that  it  was  not  in  the  least  an  intrusion  ; 
but  that  he  had  not  seen  the  person  to  whom  I  alluded,  for  many 
months. 

And  executing  a  blush  which  would  have  become  a  girl,  this 
young  tiger  of  the  horse  artillery — for  such  he  always  proved 
himself,  in  a  fight — hastened  to  change  the  subject.  Soon  after- 
ward I  took  my  departure,  turned  my  horse's  head  toward  Peters- 
burg, and  set  out  at  a  round  trot  between  the  walls  of  pine. 

It  was  dusk  when  I  reached  the  debouchment  of  the  "  military 
road,"  and,  tired  and  hungry,  T  was  contemplating  ruefully  the 
long  ride  still  before  me,  when  rapid  hoof-strokes  behind  me  at- 
tracted my  attention,  and,  turning  my  head,  I  recognized  the  bold 
figure  of  Mohun. 

He  was  mounted  on  a  fine  animal,  and  came  at  full  speed. 

In  a  moment  he  had  caught  up,  recognized,  and  we  exchanged 
a  warm  grasp  of  the  hand. 

"  I  am  delighted  to  see  you,  Surry.  I  thought  you  had  deserted 
us,  old  fellow.     The  sight  of  you  is  a  treat!" 

"  And  the  sight  of  you,  my  dear  Mohun.     You  look  beaming." 

Indeed,  Mohun  had  never  presented  a  better  appearance,  with 
his  dark  eyes;  his  tanned  and  glowing  cheeks ;  his  raven  mus- 
tached  lips,  which,  parting  with  a  smile,  showed  white  and  regu- 
lar teeth.  He  was  the  picture  of  a  gallant  soldier;  all  his  old 
melancholy  and  cynical  bitterness  gone,  as  mist  is  swept  away 
by  the  morning  sunshine. 

"■  You  are  positively  dazzling,  Mohun.  "Where  are  you  going, 
and  what  has  happened  to  you  ?     Ah  !— I  begin  to  understand  I" 

And  pointing  northward,  I  said  : — 

''  Five  Forks  is  not  far  from  here,  is  it  ?" 

Mohun  colored,  but,  the  next  moment,  burst  into  laughter. 

''  You  are  right,  old  friend  !  It  is  impossible  to  hide  any  thing 
from  you." 


MOHUX    AGAIX.  265 

*'  And  a  friend  of  yonrs  is  there — whom  yon  are  going  to  see?" 
*'Yes,  my  dear  Surry,"  -was  his  reply,  in  a  voice  of  sudden 
earnestness,  "  you  are  not  mistaken,  and  you  see  I  am  like  all 
the  rest  of  the  world.  When  we  first  met  on  the  Rapidan,  I  was  a 
woman-hater.  I  despised  them  all,  for  I  had  had  reason.  That 
was  my  state  of  mind,  when  a  very  beautiful  and  noble  girl, 
whom  you  have  seen,  crossed  my  path.  Events  threw  us  to- 
gether— first,  the  wound  I  received  at  Fleetwood — she  caught 
me  as  I  was  falling  on  that  dav — and  several  times  afterward  I 
saw  and  conversed  with  her,  finding  her  proud,  satirical,  indiffer- 
ent to  admiration,  but  as  honest  and  true  as  steel.  Still,  our 
relations  did  not  proceed  beyond  friendship,  and  when  I  told  you 
one  day  in  the  Wilderness  that  I  was  not  her  suitor,  T  spoke  the 
truth.  I  am  not  exactly  able  to  say  as  much  to-day  ! — But  to 
finish  my  account  of  myself :  I  came  here  to  Dinwiddle  on  the 
rii^ht  of  the  armv,  and  a  week  or  two  after  mv  arrival  the  enemy 
made  a  cavalrv  raid  toward  the  Southside  railroad.  I  followed, 
and  came  up  with  them  as  they  were  plundering  a  house  not  far 
from  Five  Forks.  Well,  I  charged  and  drove  them  into  the  woods — 
when,  who  should  make  her  appearance  at  the  door  but  Miss  Con- 
way, whom  I  had  last  seen  in  Culpeper  !  As  you  know,  her  father 
resides  here — he  is  now  at  Richmond — and,  after  following  the 
enemy  back  to  their  own  lines,  hurrying  them  up  with  sabre  and 
carbine,  I  came  back  to  inquire  the  extent  of  their  depredations 
at  Five  Forks. 

"  Such  is  the  simple  explanation  of  the  present  'situation,'  my 
dear  friend.  Miss  Virginia  cordially  invited  me  to  come  when- 
ever I  could  do  so,  and  although  Miss  Georgia  was  less  pressing 
— in  fact,  said  nothing  on  the  subject — I  was  not  cast  down 
thereby !  I  returned,  have  been  often  since,  and — that's  all." 

Mohun  laughed  the  heart's  laugh.  You  have  heard  that,  have 
you  not,  reader?  "Xow  tell  me  about  yourself,"  he  added, 
''  and  on  the  way  to  Five  Forks  !  I  see  you  are  tired  and  hungry. 
Come !  they  have  the  easiest  chairs  yonder,  and  are  the  soul  of 
hospitality  ! " 

The  offer  was  tempting.  Why  not  accept  it  ?  My  hesitation 
lasted  exactly  three  seconds. 

At  the  end   of  that  time,  I  was  riding   beside  Mohun  in  the 


266  MOHUN. 

direction  of  Five  Forks,  which  we  readied  just  as  I  terminated 
my  account  of  myself  since  Mohun  and  I  had  parted  in  the  Wil- 
derness. 


XVI. 

''FIVE  FORKS." 


"Five  Foeks"  was  an  old  mansion  not  far  from  the  place  of 
the  same  name,  now  become  historical.  It  was  a  building  of 
large  size;  the  grounds  were  extensive,  and  had  been  elegant; 
the  house  had  evidently  been  the  home  of  a  long  line  of  gentle- 
men, whose  portraits,  flanked  by  those  of  their  fair  helpmates, 
adorned  the  walls  of  the  great  drawing-room,  between  the  lofty 
windows.  In  the  hall  stood  a  tall  bookcase,  tilled  with  law  books, 
and  volumes  of  miscellany.  From  the  woodwork  hung  pictures 
of  race-horses,  and  old  engravings.  Such  was  the  establishment 
which  the  Federal  cavalry  had  visited,  leaving,  as  always,  their 
traces,  in  broken  furniture,  smashed  crockery,  and  trampled 
grounds. 

I  shall  not  pause  to  describe  my  brief  visit  to  this  hospitable 
house.  The  young  ladies  had  returned  from  Richmond  some  time 
before,  escorted  by  the  gray-haired  Juba,  that  faithful  old  African 
retainer;  and,  as  a  result  of  the  evenings  which  I  had  spent  with 
them  and  their  father,  I  had  the  honor  to  be  received  in  the 
character  of  an  old  friend. 

Ten  minutes  after  my  arrival  I  saw  that  Mohun  was  passion- 
ately in  love  with  Miss  Georgia ;  and  I  thought  I  perceived  as 
clearlv  that  she  returned  his  affection.  Their  eves — those  tell- 
tales — were  incessantly  meeting;  and  Mohun  followed  every 
movement  of  the  queenly  girl  with  those  long  fixed,  glances,  which 
leave  nothing  in  doubt. 

The  younger  sister,  Miss  Virginia,  received  me  with  charming 
sweetness,  but  a  secret  melancholy  weighed  down  the  dusky  eye-^ 
lashes.     The  blue  eyes  were  sad ;  the  very  smiles  on  the  rosy 
lips  were  sad.     All  was  plain  here,  too,  at  a  single  glance.     The 


GENERAL    DAYENANT.  267 

pnre  girl  had  given  her  heart  to  the  brave  "Willie  Davenant,  and 
some  mysterious  hostility  of  her  father  toward  the  young  officer, 
forced  them  apart. 

"What  was  the  origin  of  that  hostilitv?  "Whv  had  Judge  Con- 
way  so  abruptly  torn  his  daughter  away  from  Davenant  at  the 
ball  in  Culpeper — and  why  had  that  shadow  passed  over  the  old 
statesman's  brow  when  I  uttered  the  name  of  the  young  man  in 
Richmond  ? 

I  asked  myself  these  questions  vainly — and  decided  in  my  mind 
that  I  should  probably  never  know. 

I  was  mistaken.     I  was  going  to  know  before  midnight. 

After  an  excellent  supper,  over  which  Miss  Georgia  presided 
with  stately  dignity — for  she,  too,  had  changed,  in  as  marked  a 
degree  as  Mohuu, — I  rose,  declared  I  must  return  to  Petersburg, 
and  bade  the  young  ladies,  who  cordially  pressed  me  to  remain, 
good-night. 

Mohun  declared  that  he  would  remain  an  hour  longer — and 
having  promised  a  visit  soon,  at  his  camp  on  the  Eowanty,  I 
mounted  my  horse,  and  set  out,  through  the  darkness,  for  Peters- 
burg. 


xvn. 

GE^'ERAL   DAYEXANT. 


FoLLowi^-G  the  "White  Oak  road,  I  passed  Hatcher's  Run  at 
Burgess's  mill,  and  went  on  over  the  Boydton  road,  reflecting  upon 
the  scene  I  had  just  left. 

All  at  once  my  horse  placed  his  foot  upon  a  sharp  root  in  the 
road,  stumbled,  nearly  fell,  and  when  I  touched  him  with  the 
spur  I  found  that  he  limped  painfully. 

Dismounting,  I  examined  his  foot.  The  sharp  point  had  en- 
tered it,  and  it  was  bleeding  profusely.  The  accident  was  unfor- 
tunate— and,  attempting  to  ride  on,  I  found  the  hurt  worse  than  I 
had  expected.     My  gray  staggered  on  as  if  the  limb  were  broken. 

I  dismounted  once  more,  led  him  slowly  by  the  bridle,  and 


268  MOHUN. 

continued  my  way  on  foot.  A  quarter  of  a  mile  farther,  tho 
animal  was  in  such  agony  that  I  looked  around  for  some  light, 
by  which  to  examine  the  hurt  more  fully. 

On  the  right,  a  glimmer  was  seen  through  the  trees.  I  made 
straight  toward  it,  through  the  woods,  and  soon  found  myself 
near  a  group  of  tents,  one  of  which  was  lit  up. 

"  Whose  head-quarters  are  these?*'  I  asked  of  a  man  on  post, 
near. 

"Mine,  my  dear  colonel,"  said  a  voice  in  the  darkness  near. 
"  My  candle  yonder  is  hospitable  and  enables  me  to  recognize  you." 

With  which  words  the  figure  advanced  into  the  light,  and  I 
recognized  the  tall  and  stately  form  of  General  Davenant. 

He  gave  me  Ins  hand  cordially,  and  I  explained  my  dilemma. 

"  You  are  unfortunate,  but  fortunate,  too,"  said  Davenant,  "  as 
I  have  a  man  among  my  couriers  who  knows  all  about  horses. 
I  will  send  yours  to  him  ;  meanwhile  come  into  my  tent." 

And  intrusting  my  horse  to  the  orderly  with  some  brief  di- 
rections, the  general  led  the  way  into  his  head-quarters  tent. 

A  cheerful  fire  burned  in  the  rude  log-built  chimney.  On  one 
side  were  a  plain  desk  and  two  camp-stools;  on  the  other  a 
rough  couch  of  pine  logs,  filled  with  straw,  and  spread  with 
blankets.  Upon  the  blankets  a  boy  of  about  fourteen  was  sound 
asleep,  the  light  auburn  curls  tossed  in  disorder  over  the  rosy 
young  face.  At  a  glance  I  recognized  the  youth  who  had  entered 
the  ranks  at  Gettysburg,  taken  part  in  Pickett's  charge,  and 
been  borne  out  tlirough  the  smoke,  wounded  and  bleeding,  in  the 
arms  of  his  father.  The  young  Charley  had  evidently  recovered, 
and  was  as  ruddy  as  before.  His  little  braided  jacket  was  as 
jaunty,  his  face  as  smiling,  as  on  that  evening  near  Paris. 

An  hour  afterward,  General  Davenant  and  myself  were  con- 
versing like  old  friends.  We  were  by  no  means  strangers,  as  I 
had  repeatedly  been  thrown  with  him  in  the  army,  and  my  inti- 
macv  with  Will  doubtless  commended  me  to  the  brave  soldier's 
regard.  An  accident  now  seemed  about  to  make  us  still  better 
acquainted.  The  orderly  had  reported  that  it  would  be  impos- 
sible to  proceed  farther  with  my  horse  that  night,  and  I  had 
accepted  the  invitation  of  General  Davenant  to  remain  with  him 
until  morning. 


GENERAL     DAVEKANT.  269 

"My  brigade  is  holding  the  right  of  the  armr,  colonel,"  he 
had  said  ;  "  we  have  just  moved  to  this  position,  and  have  not 
had  time  to  become  very  comfortable.  But  I  can  offer  you  a  tol- 
erable supper  and  a  camp-bed  after  it,  with  a  warm  welcome,   I 

assure  you." 

I  declined  the  supper,  but  accepted  the  bed;  and  seated  op- 
posite the  grizzled  old  cavalier,  in  his  gray  uniform,  had  begun 

to  converse. 

Something  about  the  stately  general  of  infantry,  drew  me  irre- 
sistibly toward  him.  His  bearing  was  lofty,  and  not  without 
a  species  of  hauteur  ;  but  under  all  was  an  exquisite  high-breed- 
ing and  courtesy,  which  made  his  society  quite  charming. 

At  some  words  of  mine,  however,  in  reference  to  my  visit 
on  this  day  to  his  son,  a  decided  expression  of  gloom  had  ob- 
scured the  smiles  of  the  old  soldier. 

"  Yes,  colonel,"  he  said,  with  something  like  a  sigh,  "  Willie 
has  lost  his  good  spirits,  and  has  been  much  depressed  for  more 
than  a  year.  You  are  his  friend— you  share  his  confidence— you 
doubtless  know  the  origin  of  this  depression." 

•'  I  do,  general ;  a  very  common  cause  of  trouble  to  young 
men — a  young  lady." 

"A  young  lady,"  repeated  General  Davenant,  in  the  same 
gloomy  tone.  "  He  has  committed  the  imprudence  of  falling  in 
love,  as  the  phrase  is,  with — Miss  Conway." 

He  paused  before  the  words  "Miss  Conway,"  and  uttered 
them  witli  evident  repugnance.  They  issued  from  his  lips, 
indeed,  with  a  species  of  jerk  ;  and  he  seemed  glad  to  get  rid  of 
them,  if  I  may  so  express  myself. 

"  I  can  talk  of  this  affair  with  you,  colonel,"  he  added,  gloomily, 
"  for  Will  has  told  me  of  your  regard  for  him." 
I  bowed,  and  said  : — 

"You  are  not  wrong  in  supposing  that  I  am  one  of  your  son's 

best  friends,  general.    I  was  long  in  the  cavalry  with  hira— there 

is  no  more  heroic  soldier  in  the  army— and  it  has  given  me 

sincere  sorrow  to  see  him  laboring  under  such  melancholy." 

General  Davenant,  with  his  hand  covering  his  brow,  listened 

in  silence. 

"I  have  not  inquired  the  origin  of  this  depression,"  I  added— 


270  MOHUN. 

"that  would  have  been  indiscreet — though  I  know  "Will  would 
tell  me.  I  guessed  it,  however,  and  I  have  visited  the  voung 
lady  at  her  house  to-night.  I  will  certainly  use  my  utmost 
exertions  to  remove  all  obstacles." 

Genei-al  Davenant  suddenly  rose  erect.     His  eye  was  flashing. 

"  I  beg  you  will  not,  colonell"  he  exclaimed.  ''The  harrier 
between  himself  and — Miss  Conway — can  never  be  removed." 

I  looked  at  the  speaker's  flushed  face  with  positive  wonder,  and 
replied : — 

"You  astonish  me,  general!  Are  there  any  such  obstacles  in 
life  ?" 

"There  are!" 

I  made  no  reply. 

"There  are,  colonel,"  repeated  the  now  flery  old  soldier. 
"Judge  Conway  has  been  guilty  of  a  gross  wrong  to  me.  No 
son  of  mine  shall  ever  form  an  alliance  with  his  family  !" 

I  looked  up  with  deep  astonishment. 

"  This  is  a  very  great  surprise  to  me,  my  dear  general,"  I  said  ; 
"I  thought,  from  many  things,  that  it  was  Judge  Conway  who  op- 
posed this  alliance ;  and  from  the  belief  that  you  had  done  him 
some  great  wrong." 

General  Davenant  had  taken  his  seat  again,  after  his  outburst. 
Once  more  his  forehead  was  covered  with  his  hand.  For  some 
moments  he  preserved  a  silence  so  profound,  that  nothing  dis 
turbed  the  night  but  the  long  breathing  of  the  sleeping  boy,  and 
the  measured  tramp  of  the  sentinel. 

Then,  all  at  once,  the  general  raised  his  head.  His  expression 
was  no  longer  fierv — it  was  unutterablr  sad. 

"I  have  been  reflecting,  colonel,"  he  said  gravely,  "and,  in 
these  few  minutes,  have  come  to  a  somewhat  singular  determina- 
tion." 

"  What  is  that,  general  ?" 

••  To  tell  you  why  my  son  can  never  marry  the  daughter  of 
Judge  Conway!" 


TWO    MEN    AND   A    WOMAN.  271 

XVIII. 

TWO  MEN  AND  A  WOMAN. 

Geneeal  Dayenant  leaned  bis  elbow  on  tbe  desk,  rested  bi9 
forebead  in  bis  band,  and  said  in  a  deep,  measured  voice : — 

"  My  story  need  not  be  a  long  one,  colonel.  Tbose  wbo  relate 
gay  adventures  and  joyous  experiences,  indulge  in  endless  details 
— memory  is  cbarming  to  tbem  at  sucb  moments — tbey  go  back 
to  tbe  past,  witb  a  smile  on  tbe  lips,  recalling  every  little  detail, 
every  color  of  tbe  brigbt  picture. 

"  My  own  narrative  will  be  brief,  because  it  is  a  gloomy  one. 
It  is  far  from  pleasant  to  return  to  tbe  scenes  I  propose  to  de- 
scribe. I  only  do  so  to  erase  a  stigma  wbicb  seems  to  attacb  to 
my  family  and  myself ;  to  sbow  you  that,  in  spite  of  Judge  Con- 
way, I  deserve  your  good  opinion.  Assuredly  I  do  not  propose 
any  pleasure  to  myself  in  relating  tbese  events.  Alas!  one  of  tbe 
bitterest  tbings  to  a  proud  man — and  I  am  proud — is  to  even  seem 
to  defend  his  good  name  from  imputed  dishonor!" 

Knitting  bis  brows  as  he  spoke,  the  old  soldier  looked  gloomily 
into  tbe  blaze  before  us.     In  a  moment,  be  went  on : — 

"I  was  born  in  tbe  county  of  Dinwiddio,  colonel,  where  my 
family  had  lived  from  the  time  of  the  first  settlement  of  Virginia. 
My  father  was  a  large  landholder,  and  his  most  intimate  friend 
was  Mr.  Conway,  the  father  of  tbe  present  judge.  The  family 
friendship  was  inherited  by  tbe  young  people  of  the  two  families 
— and  my  two  most  intimate  friends  were  Oeorge  and  WiUiam 
Conway.  One  is  dead,  tbe  other  is  Judge  William  Conway,  mem- 
ber of  Congress.  We  bad  played  together  as  children,  been  com- 
panions at  school.  When  our  fathers  died,  and  we  in  turn  became 
the  representatives  of  the  two  families,  our  friendship  became  even 
more  close.  I  was  half  my  time  at  'Five  Forks  ' — tbey  paid  long 
visits  to  me  at  'The  Pines' — we  bunted  together,  went  to  enter- 
tainments together,  drank  wine  together,  and  were  inseparable. 

'•  George  was  especially  my  favorite.  He  was  the  soul  of  ami- 
ability ;  everybody  loved  him  ;  and  I  entertained  for  him  the 
most  tender  friendship.  His  brother  William  was  equally  estima- 
12 


272  M  Oil  UN. 

ble,  bat  did  not  .nttract  yon  as  strongly,  Although  a  person  of 
the  liighest  sense  of  honor,  and  universally  respected  for  talents  of 
the  first  order,  he  was  irascible,  bitter,  and,  when  once  aroused, 
allowed  nothing  to  restrain  him.  At  such  moments  his  best  friends 
avoided  him,  for  he  was  dangerous.  He  brooked  no  opposition. 
His  anger  was  like  a  consuming  fire;  and  a  friendship  which  he  had 
formed  with  that  gentleman  of  splendid  powers,  but  venomous 
antipathies,  John  Randolph  of  Roanoke,  served  still  more  to 
encourage  him  in  the  indulgence  of  the  natural  acerbity  of  his 
disposition.  More  than  once,  I  have  seen  him  almost  foam  at  the 
mouth  as  he  denounced  some  political  adversary  from  the  stump, 
and  when  one  of  these  fits  of  passion  seized  him,  he  became  as 
ungovernable  as  a  wild  animal.  You  can  scarcely  realize  that, 
now.  Sorrow  has  chastened  liira  ;  trouble  has  softened  him  ;  I 
have  nothinflc  to  sav  against  the  Judge  William  Conwav  of  to-dav. 
He  is  a  self-sacrificing  patriot,  a  gentleman  of  irreproachable 
courtesy,  and  sweetness  of  character;  but,  as  a  young  man,  he 
was  a  firebrand,  and  I  think  the  fire  is  still  unquenched  beneath 
the  gray  hairs  of  the  man  of  seventy. 

"Such  were  George  and  William  Conway,  when  I  knew  them 
as  young  men — the  one  mild,  amiable,  the  soul  of  kindness  and 
good-nature;  the  other  proud,  honorable,  but  subject  to  fits  of 
stormy  passion,  which  made  all  avoid  hira  when  the  paroxysm 
was  upon  him. 

"From  this  hasty  description,  you  will  understand  why  George 
was  a  greater  favorite  with  me  than  his  brother.  Our  friendship 
was,  indeed,  as  close  and  tender  as  possible,  and  we  passed  our 
majority  and  approached  the  age  of  twenty-five,  without  ever 
having  had  a  moment's  interruption  of  our  intimacy. 

"  Then,  all  at  once,  there  appeared  upon  the  stage,  that  cause  of 
so  much  happiness,  woe,  joy,  grief,  to  mankind — a  woman.  To 
make  a  long  story  short,  George  Conway  and  myself  were  so  un- 
fortunate as  to  become  attached  to  the  same  young  lady,  and 
very  soon  this  sentiment  amounted,  both  on  his  part  and  on  my 
own,  to  a  wild  and  consuming  passion.  The  young  lady — it  is 
unnecessary  to  mention  her  name — was  a  person  of  rare  beauty, 
and  mistress  of  all  the  wiles  which  bring  young  men  to  the  feet 
of  women.     She  used  these  unsparingly,  too,  for  nothing  delighted 


TWO     MEN    AXD    A     WOMAN.  273 

her  so  mncb  as  to  attract  admiration  and  inspire  love.  Perceiving 
tlie  effect  which  her  grace  and  loveliness  had  produced  upon 
myself  and  George,  slie  made  everj  exertion  to  increase  our  in- 
fatuation— encouraged  first  one,  then  the  other;  and,  in  the  end, 
succeeded  in  breaking  those  close  ties  of  friendship  which  had 
bound  us  from  the  time  when  we  had  played  together  as  children. 

"That  is  a  sad  confession,  colonel,  but  it  is  the  truth.  Tlie 
bright  eyes  and  smiles  of  a  girl  had  termina4;ed  a  life-long  friend- 
ship. The  mere  love  of  admiration  in  the  heart  of  a  young  girl 
had  interrupted  the  affection  of  years — making  George  and  my- 
self cold  and  distrait  toward  each  other.  Soon  things  became  still 
worse.  From  friends  we  bad  become  mere  acquaintances — from 
acquaintances  we  became  strangers,  and  finally  foes.  Busy-bodies 
whispered,  tale-bearers  blew  the  flames.  If  the  young  lady 
smiled  on  me  at  a  party  where  George  was  present,  the  good 
people  around  us  looked  at  him  with  satirical  meaning.  If  she 
smiled  on  George,  their  eyes  were  turned  toward  me,  and  they 
giggled  and  whispered. 

"That  is  all  tedious — is  it  not?  An  old  story,  which  every 
country  neighborhood  knows.  You  laugh,  perhaps,  at  hearing  it 
told  of  A  and  B, — but  you  do  not  laugh  when  you  are  one  of 
the  actors.  "VTell,  not  to  lengthen  my  history  unduly,  an  open 
rivalry  and  enmity  at  last  arose  between  myself  and  poor  George. 
We  had  been  spurred  on  to  hate  each  other,  and  narrowly 
escaped  having  an  '  affair'  together — appealing  to  the  pistol  as 
the  arbiter. 

"It  never  came  to  that,  however.  I  saw,  ere  long,  that  the 
young  lady  had  made  up  her  mind.  George  was  in  every  way  a 
more  attractive  and  lovable  person  than  myself;  and  after  draw- 
ing me  on,  encouraging  me,  and  inducing  me  to  offer  her  my 
hand,  she  turned  her  back  on  me,  and  married  George ! 

"  Such  was  the  result  of  the  campaign.  George  had  won, — 
and  I  am  obliged  to  say  that  I  hated  him  cordially.  I  should 
never  have  done  so,  from  the  simple  fact  of  his  success.  I  am 
not  so  ignoble  as  that,  my  dear  colonel.  Bitter  as  was  my  dis- 
appointment, I  could  have  bowed  to  the  fiat — pardoned  the  young 
lady — and  offered  my  hand  to  dear  George  ;  but  there  were  our 
'friends,' the  busy-bodies  and  talebearers.    They  were  unresting 


274  .      M  0  n  U  X . 

in  their  exertions — took  the  wliole  affair  under  their  personal 
supervision,  and  invented  a  hundred  fables  to  sting  and  arouse 
me.  You  would  have  said  that  they  were  bloody  minded — the 
busy-bodies — and  bent  on  trouble;  that  their  aim  -was  to  pro- 
foundly enrage  me,  and  cause  bloodshed.  George  had  laughed 
at  me,  they  said  ;  never  had  had  a  moment's  doubt  of  the  young 
lady's  sentiments;  had  often  jested  about  me,  and  expressed  his 
pity  for  ray 'silly  presumption  ;'  had  even  amused  himself  and 
the  young  lady,  by  mimicking  my  peculiarities,  and  raising  a 
laugh  at  my  expense. 

"These  reports  were  persistently  and  regularly  repeated  for 
my  information :  I  was  baited,  and  worried,  and  driven  nearly 
mad  by  them — finally  a  duel  nearly  resulted  ;  but  that  last  step 
was  not  taken.  I  simply  made  my  bow  to  the  happy  pair,  left 
them  without  a  word,  and  returned  home,  determined  to  drop 
the  whole  matter — but  none  the  less  enraged  and  embittered. 

''From  that  moment  George  and  myself  rarely  met,  and  never 
as  friends.  I  liad  been  brought  to  hate  him — he  knew  the  fact — 
and  although  he  was  innocent  of  all  wrong  to  me,  as  I  know 
to-day,  made  no  effort  to  win  my  regard  again.  He  was  as 
proud  as  myself— he  said  nothing — and  our  paths  here  separated 
forever. 

"Such  is  the  necessary  introduction,  colonel,"  said  General 
Davenant,  "  to  the  events  which  I  propose  to  relate." 


XIX. 

THE  MCRDER. 


"Moke  than  twenty  years  had  passed,"  continued  General 
Davenant,  "  when  that  old  hatred  which  had  been  aroused  in  me, 
toward  George  Conway,  produced  bitter  fruits. 

"  I  was  to  be  taught  by  a  terrible  experience  that  hatred  is  a 
deadly  sin ;  that  God  punishes  it  more  severely  than  all  other 


THE    MURDER.  275 

sins,  for  it  is  the  poison  wliich  turns  the  whole  heart  to  bitter- 
ness. I  had  indulged  it — made  no  effort  to  banish  it — nourished 
it  like  a  snake  in  the  recesses  of  my  breast,  and  now  God  decreed, 
as  a  punishment,  that  the  snake  should  turn  and  sting  me. 

'•  To  go  back  for  a  moment,  however.  George  had  married  — 
a  year  afterward  I  had  imitated  him.  My  wife  was  an  angel  upon 
earth — she  is  an  angel  in  heaven  now — and  in  comparison  with 
the  deep  affection  which  I  felt  for  her,  the  ephemeral  fancy  for 
the  young  lady  whom  my  rival  had  married,  appeared  the  veriest 
trifle.  "William  Conway  had  also  married,  and  he  and  George, 
■with  their  wives,  were  living  at  Five  Forks.  William  was  judge 
of  the  circuit — George  managed  the  estate — and  theii*  affection 
for  each  other,  at  this  period  of  their  mature  manhood,  was  said 
to  exceed  that  of  their  youth. 

"  '  "Was  said  to,'  I  say,  colonel ;  for  I  never  saw  either  of  tliem. 
All  intercourse  between  "The  Pines  "and  ''Five  Forks"  had 
ceased  twenty  years  before;  and  George  and  "William  Conway 
were  as  much  strangers  to  me,  as  if  we  lived  in  opposite 
quarters  of  the  globe ;  for  time  had  not  changed — or  rather  re- 
stored— the  entente  cordial  of  the  past.  On  the  contrary,  the 
feud  had  become  chronic — the  gulf  separating  us  had  grown 
deeper.  "When  I  met  either  of  the  brothers,  we  exchanged  no 
greetings — passed  without  looking  at  each  other — and  the  'family 
feud '  between  the  Davenants  and  the  Con  ways  was  not  even 
alluded  to ;  it  had  become  an  old  story,  and  lost  its  interest. 

"Such  was  the  condition  of  things — such  the  attitude 
which  I  occupied  toward  the  two  brothers — when  the  event, 
which  I  am  about  to  relate,  took  place.  The  event  in  question 
was  tragic  and  terrible.  It  came  without  warning,  to  shock  tlie 
entire  surrounding  country.  One  night,  on  his  return  from  the 
county  seat,  whither  he  was  said  to  have  gone  upon  some  matter 
of  business,  George  Conway  was  murdered,  and  his  body  con- 
cealed in  some  buslies  by  the  roadside. 

"  The  body  was  not  discovered  until  the  morning  succeeding 
the  murder.  His  riderless  horse  was  then  seen  standing  at  the 
door  of  the  stable  at  Five  Forks,  and  in  great  terror.  Judge 
Conway  set  out  rapidly  to  look  for  his  brother,  who  was  supposed 
to  have  met  with  some  accident.     Two  or  three  neighbors,  whom 


27G  MO  HUN".  ' 

he  chanced  to  meet,  joined  in  the  search  ;  the  body  was  dis- 
covered;  and,  on  examination,  revealed  a  deep  gash  in  the  region 
of  the  heart,  apparently  inflicted  by  a  dagger  or  a  knife. 

''The  blow  had  evidently  been  mortal — no  other  hurt  was 
visible.  George  Conway  seemed  to  have  been  waylaid  by  some 
unknown  person,  and  murdered  on  his  return  from  the  court- 
house. 

"It  was  impossible  to  divine  the  perpetrator  of  the  crime,  or 
form  any  idea  of  his  motive.  Upon  the  person  of  the  murdered 
man  a  large  sum  of  money,  which  he  had  received  that  day,  was 
discovered.  He  had  not  been  waylaid,  thus,  by  one  designing  to 
rob  him ;  *and  his  peaceful  and  amiable  character  excluded  the 
hypothesis  that  he  had  aroused  such  enmity  as  could  have  led  to 
the  bloody  deed.  The  whole  afliair  was  a  profound  mystery — no 
clue  could  be  discovered  to  the  perpetrator,  or  the  motive  of  the 
crime — and  the  bodv  was  borne  to  ''Five  Forks,"  where  it  was 
laid  in  state  to  await  burial  on  the  next  day. 

"Judge  Conway,  it  was  said,  had  nearly  lost  his  reason  at  this 
sudden  and  terrible  blow.  He  had  loved  his  brother  with  extra- 
ordinarv  aflfection ;  and  the  event  struck  him  like  a  thunderbolt. 
His  stupor  of  grief  was  succeeded  by  rage.  He  fell  into  one  of 
his  paroxysms.  With  flushed  face,  bloodshot  eyes,  and  mouth 
foaming  with  a  species  of  fury,  he  mounted  his  horse,  went  at 
full  speed  to  the  court-house,  made  inquiries  of  everybody  who 
had  seen  his  brother,  asked  with  whom  he  had  last  been  seen, 
and  left  no  stone  unturned  to  ferret  out  the  author  of  the  crime. 

"  Meanwhile,  the  whole  county  was  discussing,  with  awe-struck 
eyes,  the  extraordinary  event.  Who  could  have  perpetrated  the 
act?  Who  could  have  waylaid  and  murdered  a  man  so  univer- 
sally popular?  Who  was  safe,  if  such  a  state  of  things  could  exist 
in  a  peaceful  community, — if  a  good  citizen  could  not  ride  to  see 
a  neighbor,  or  to  the  county  seat,  without  danger  of  being  mur- 
dered ? 

"Grief,  indignation,  horror,  were  the  universal  sentiments. 
Some  one  must  be  discovered  upon  whom  to  lay  the  crime.  And 
that  some  one  was  the  individual  before  vou,  colonel !" 


THE    KNIFE.  277 

XX. 

THE    KXIFE. 

"Let  me  continue,  I  beg,"  continued  General  Davenant, 
gloomily.  "  Your  look  of  astonishment  is  quite  natural ;  you  feel 
the  indignation  of  a  gentleman  at  my  words ;  but  allow  me  to 
go  on  with  my  narrative. 

"  Poor  George  Conway  was  buried  on  the  day  after  the  dis- 
covery of  his  body,  and  an  immense  concourse,  accompanied  him 
to  his  grave.  The  funeral  procession  was  a  mile  long,  for  the 
notoriety  attached  to  the  event  had  drawn  people  from  far  and 
near ;  and  when  the  body  reached  the  grave-yard,  the  crowd 
nearly  filled  the  small  inclosure. 

"  I  was  present  in  my  carriage  with  my  wife,  and  my  son  Charles 
yonder,  then  a  child  in  arms.  You  will  understand,  colonel, 
that  I  had  not  the  heart  to  be  absent.  I  had  long  ceased  to  feel 
a  sentiment  of  any  great  regard  for  the  Conways;  but  at  the  in- 
telligence of  George's  sudden  death,  all  my  old  friendship  had 
revived — the  old  kindly  feeling  came  back;  pity  banished  all 
enmity.  I  thought  of  his  former  love  for  me,  and  I  determined 
to  do  all  that  remained  in  my  power  to  show  my  sympathy — at- 
tend his  funeral  among  those  who  mourned  him. 

"  Well,  the  body  was  borne  to  the  grave,  the  service  read,  and 
the  remains  of  the  unfortunate  gentleman  deposited  in  their  last 
resting-place.  Then  the  clods  rattled  on  the  coffin,  the  service 
ended,  and  George  Conway  had  passed  away  from  all  eyes. 

"  I  looked  at  his  poor  wife  and  brother  with  tears  in  my  eyes. 
All  my  enmity  was  gone — my  memory  went  back  to  the  old 
scenes;  at  that  instant  I  could  have  reached  out  my  afms,  and 
drawn  the  bereaved  brother  to  mv  heart,  mingling  mv  tears 
with  his  own. 

"All  at  once,  however,  I  looked  at  Judge  Conway  with  aston-* 
ishment.     I  had  expected  to  see  him  overwhelmed  with  grief — 
but  as  he  now  raised  his  head,  and  turned  in  the  direction  of  the 
spot  where  I  was  standing,  I  saw  that  his  features  were  convulsed 
with  wrath.     His  cheeks  were  crimson,  his  teeth  clenched,  his 


278  M  0  H  U  N . 

eyes  injected  yrlth  blood.  Suddenly  these  bloodshot  eyes  met 
my  own — the  cheeks  a  moment  before  so  red,  grew  pale — and 
exclaiming,  'It  is  you  who  murdered  my  brother!'  he  tlirew 
himself  upon  me  with  the  fury  of  a  wild  animal,  and  his  fiugers 
were  nearly  buried  in  my  throat. 

"  The  assault  was  so  sudden  and  terrible  that  I  staggered  back, 
and  nearly  fell  over  the  grave. 

"  Then  regaining  my  self-possession,  I  caught  Judge  Conway 
by  the  throat  in  turn,  hurled  him  from  me,  and  stood  confronting 
him,  pale,  panting,  my  throat  bleeding — and  resolved  if  he  at- 
tacked me  again  to  put  him  to  death  with  the  first  weapon  upon 
which  I  could  lay  my  hand. 

"  He  was,  meanwhile,  struggling  in  the  hands  of  his  friends, 
who,  by  main  force,  held  him  back. 

"  'Let  me  go  I'  he  shouted,  foaming  at  the  mouth  with  rage — 
'  that  man  murdered  my  brother  !  I  will  take  the  law  into  ray 
own  hands !  he  shall  not  leave  this  spot  alive !  He  dares  to 
come  here  in  the  presence  of  the  dead  body  of  George  Conway — 
and  he  is  his  murderer!' 

"These  words  were  rather  howled  than  uttered.  The  speaker 
seemed  to  have  lost  his  reason,  from  pure  excess  of  rage.  If  his 
friends  had  not  restrained  him  by  main  force,  he  would  have 
thrown  himself  upon  me  a  second  time,  when"  one  of  us  would 
have  lost  his  life,  colonel,  for  I  was  now  as  violently  enraged  as 
himself. 

"  That  /should  be  thus  publicly  branded  with  the  basest  crime ! 
that  the  representative  of  the  old  and  honorable  house  of  the 
Davenants,  should  be  thus  grossly  insulted,  his  person  assailed, 
his  good  name  torn  from  him — that  he  should  be  denounced 
thus  in  the  presence  of  all  as  a  felon  and  murderer! 

"  'You  are  insane,  sir!'  I  at  length  said,  struggling  to  regain 
my  coolness.  '  Your  grief  has  affected  your  brain  !  I  can  par- 
don much  in  you  to-day,  sir,  but  beware  how  you  again  attempt 
\o  degrade  me!' 

"  '  Hear  him  !'  was  the  hoarse  and  furious  reply  of  Judge  Con- 
way;-and  reaching  out  his  thin  fingers,  a  habit  he  had  caught 
from  Mr.  Randolpli — he  pointed  at  me  where  I  stood. 

"  'Hear  him  !     He  affects  innocence  I     He  is  outraged  !     He  is 


THE    CHAIN   OF   EVIDENCE.  279 

indignant!  And  yet  he  waylaid  my  brother,  whom  he  has  hated 
for  twenty  years — he  wayLaid  him  like  an  assassin,  and  murdered 
him!     There  is  the  proof  !' 

"  And  drawing  from  his  pocket  a  knife,  covered  with  clotted 
blood,  he  threw  it  upon  the  grave  before  all  eyes. 

"  Good  God  !     It  was  my  own  !" 


XXI. 

THE   CHAIN    OF   EVIDENCE. 

"At  the  sight  of  that  terrible  object"  continued  General 
Davenant,  "  I  staggered  back,  and  nearly  fell.  I  could  not  be- 
lieve my  eyes — never  thought  of  denying  the  ownership  of  the 
fearful  witness. — I  could  only  gaze  at  it,  with  a  wild  horror 
creeping  over  me,  and  then  all  these  terrible  emotions  were  too 
much  for  rae. 

"I  took  two  steps  toward  the  grave,  reached  out  Avith  a  shud- 
der to  grasp  the  knife  whose  clots  of  blood  seemed  to  burn  them- 
selves into  my  brain — then  vertigo  seized  me,  and  letting  my  head 
fall,  I  fainted. 

"  When  I  regained  my  senses,  I  was  in  my  carriage,  supported 
by  the  arms  of  my  wife,  and  rolhng  up  the  avenue  to  my  own 
house. 

"  Opposite  me,  in  the  carriage,  little  Charley,  who,  dimly  realized 
apparently  that  some  trouble  had  come  to  me,  was  crying  bitterly, 
and  a  rough  personage  was  endeavoring  to  quiet  his  sobbing, 

"  The  personage  in  question  was  a  constable.  "When  I  fainted 
at  the  grave,  my  friends  had  caught  me  in  their  arms — protested 
with  burning  indignation  that  the  charge  against  me  was  a  base 
calumny — and  the  magistrate  who  was  summoned  by  Judge  Con- 
way to  arrest  me,  had  declined  to  do  more  than  direct  a  consta- 
ble to  escort  rae  home,  and  see  that  I  did  not  attem^-L  to  escape. 

"That  was  kind.  I  was  a  murderer,  and  my  proper  place  a 
jail.     Why  should  /  be  more  favored  than  some  poor  common 


280  M  O  H  U  N  . 

man  charged  Avith  that  crime?  Had  such  a  person  been  con- 
fronted with  sncli  a  charge,  supported  by  such  damning  evidence 
as  the  bloody  knife,  would  any  ceremony  have  been  observed  ? 
*  To  jail  I'  all  would  have  cried,  '  Xo  bail  for  the  murderer  I'  And 
Avliv  should  the  rich  Mr.  Davenant  be  treated  with  more  con- 
sideration  ? 

"On  the  day  after  my  arrest — I  spare  you  all  the  harrowing 
scenes,  my  poor  wife's  agony,  and  every  thing,  colonel — on  the  day 
after,  I  got  into  my  carriage,  and  went  and  demanded  to  be  con- 
fined in  jail.  It  was  the  first  time  a  Davenant  had  ever  been  in 
jail — but  I  went  thither  without  hesitation,  if  not  without  a 
shudder.  No  sooner  had  I  taken  this  step  than  the  whole 
countrv  seemed  to  have  left  their  homes  to  visit  me  in  mv  prison. 
On  the  evening  of  the  scene  at  the  grave,  twenty  persons  had 
called  at  the  'Pines,' to  express  their  sympathy  and  indignation 
at  the  charge  against  me.  Now,  when  the  iron  door  of  the  law- 
had  closed  upon  me,  and  I  was  a  real  prisoner,  the  visitors  came 
in  throngs  without  number.  One  and  all,  they  treated  the  charge 
as  the  mere  result  of  Judge  Conway's  fury — some  laughed  at, 
others  denounced  it  as  an  attempt  to  entrap  and  destroy  me— 
all  were  certain  that  an  investigation  would  at  once  demonstrate 
my  innocence,  and  restore  me  to  liberty  and  honor. 

"Alas!  I  could  only  thank  my  friends,  and  reply  that  I  hoped 
that  such  would  be  the  result.  But  when  they  had  left  me  alone, 
I  fell  into  fits  of  the  deepest  dejection. 

"  What  proofs  could  I  give  that  I  was  innocent?  There  was 
a  terrible  array  of  circumstances,  on  the  contrary,  to  support  the 
hyi)othesis  of  my  guilt — much  more  than  I  have  mentioned,  colonel. 
I  had  visited  the  court-house  on  the  same  day  with  poor  George 
Conway,  and  for  the  first  time  in  twenty  years  had  exchanged 
words  with  him.  And  the  words  were  unfriendly.  We  had 
both  been  in  the  clerk's  office  of  the  county,  when  that  gentle- 
man asked  me  some  common-place  question — in  what  year  such 
a  person  had  died,  and  his  will  had  been  recorded,  I  think.  I 
replied,  meutioning  a  year.  The  clerk  shook  his  head,  declaring 
that  it  must  i  pve  been  later,  and  appealed  to  poor  George  Conway, 
who  agreed  wii.  him,  adding,  'Mr.  Davenant  is  certainly  in  the 
w-rong.'     I  was  much  annoyed  that  day— made  some  curt  reply — 


THE    CHAIN   OF  EVIDENCE.  281 

poor  George  made  a  similar  rejoinder,  and  some  liarsh,  almost 
insulting  words,  passed  bet\veen  us.  The  afiixir  went  no  further, 
however.  I  left  the  clerk's  office,  and  having  attended  to  the 
business  which  brought  me,  left  the  court-house  about  dusk.  As 
I  mounted  my  horse,  I  saw  poor  George  Conway  riding  out  of 
the  place.  I  followed  slowly,  not  wishing  to  come  up  with  him, 
turned  into  a  by-road  which  led  toward  my  own  house — and 
knew  nothing  of  the  murder  until  it  was  bruited  abroad  on  the 
next  day. 

"  That  is  much  like  the  special  pleading  of  a  criminal — is  it  not, 
colonel?  If  I  had  really  murdered  the  poor  man,  would  not  this 
be  my  method  of  explaining  every  thing  ?  You  see,  I  do  not  deny 
what  several  witnesses  could  prove;  the  fact  that  I  quarreled 
-with  Conway,  came  to  high  words,  uttered  insults,  exhibited 
anger,  followed  him  from  the  court-house  at  dusk — I  acknov>^l- 
edge  all  tliat,  but  add,  that  I  struck  into  a  by-road  and  went 
Iiome !  That  sounds  suspicious,  I  assure  you,  even  to  myself, 
to-day.  Imagine  the  effect  it  promised  to  have  then,  when  I 
was  a  man  charged  with  murder — who  would  naturally  try  to 
frame  such  a  statement  as  would  clear  him — and  when  a  large 
portion  of  the  community  were  excited  and  indignant  at  the 
murder. 

"  Such  had  been  the  truly  unfortunate  scene  in  the  clerk's 
office, — the  fatality  which  made  me  follow  the  man  going  to  his 
death,  and  my  known  enmity  of  long  standing,  supported  the 
hypothesis  of  my  guilt.  There  was  another,  and  even  more  fatal 
circumstance  still, — the  discovery  of  the  knife  with  which  George 
Conway  had  been  slain.  That  knife  was  my  own;  it  was  one  of 
peculiar  shape,  with  a  handle  of  tortoise-shell,  and  I  had  often 
used  it  in  presence  of  my  friends  and  others.  A  dozen  persons 
could  make  oath  to  it  as  my  property ;  but  it  was  not  needed  ; 
the  scene  at  the  grave  made  that  useless.  I  evidently  did  not 
deny  the  ownership  of  the  weapon  which  had  been  used  in  the 
commission  of  the  murder.  At  the  very  sight  of  it,  on  the  con- 
trary, in  the  hands  of  the  brother  of  iuy  victim,  I  had  turned 
pale  and  fainted! 

"  This  was  the  condition  of  things  when  the  special  term  of 
the  court,  held  expressly  to  try  me,  commenced  at  Dinwiddle." 


282  MOHUN. 


XXII. 

THE    TRIAL. 

"  A  GEEAT  crowd  assembled  on  the  day  of  th.e  trial.  Judge 
Conway  had  vacated  the  bench,  as  personally  interested,  and  the 
judge  from  a  neighboring  circuit  had  taken  his  place. 

"Below  the  seat  of  the  judge  sat  the  jury.  Outside  the  rail- 
ing, the  spectators  were  crowded  so  closely  that  it  was  with  diffi- 
culty the  sheriff  made  a  passage  for  ray  entrance. 

"  To  one  resolution  I  had  adhered  in  spite  of  the  remonstrances 
of  all  my  friends, — to  employ  no  counsel.  In  this  determination 
nothing  could  shake  me.  A  disdainful  pi-ide  sustained  me, 
mingled  with  bitter  obstinacy.  If  I,  the  representative  of  one  of 
the  oldest  and  most  honorable  families  in  the  county  of  Din- 
widdle was  to  be  branded  as  a  murderer, — if  my  past  life,  my 
family  and  personal  character,  did  not  refute  the  charge, — if  I 
"was  to  be  dragged  to  death  on  suspicion,  gibbeted  as  a  murderer^ 
because  some  felon  had  stolen  my  pocket-knife,  and  committed  a 
crime  with  it, — then  I  would  go  to  my  death  unmoved.  I  would 
disdain  to  frame  explanations;  let  the  law  murder  me  if  it  would  ; 
no  glib  counsel  should  save  my  life  by  technicalities ;  I  would  be 
vindicated  by  God  and  my  past  life,  or  would  die. 

"  Such  was  my  state  of  mind,  and  such  the  origin  of  my  refu- 
sal to  employ  counsel.  "When  the  court  now  assigned  me  coun- 
sel, I  rose  aod  forbade  tliem  to  appear  for  me.  In  the  midst  of 
a  stormy  scene,  and  with  the  prosecuting  attorney  sitting  dumb 
in  his  chair,  resolved  to  take  no  par^  in  the  trial,  the  witnesses 
appeared  upon  the  stand,  and,  rather  by  sufferance  than  the 
judge's  consent,  the  jury  proceeded  to  interrogate  them. 

''  The  circumstances  which  I  have  detailed  to  you  were  all 
proved  in  the  clearest  manner  ;  the  altercation  in  the  clerk's 
ofHce  on  the  day  of  the  murder;  my  long  enmity  against  him, 
dating  back  more  than  twenty  years  ;  the  fact  that  I  had  followed 
him  out  of  tha  village  just  at  dusk  on  the  fatal  night ;   and  the 


THE    TRIAL.  283 

discovery  of  my  knife  in  the  tall  grass  by  the  roadside  near  the 
body. 

"  I  had  summoned  no  witnesses,  but  some  appeared  of  their 
own  accord,  and  gave  important  testimony.  Many  neighbors 
testified  that  my  enmity  toward  George  Conway  had  almost  en 
tireiy  disappeared  in  the  lapse  of  years,  and  that  I  had  spoken  of 
him,  upon  more  than  one  occasion,  with  great  kindness.  The 
clerk  of  the  county  described  the  scene  in  his  office,  stating  that 
the  aifair  had  appeared  to  him  a  mere  interchange  of  curt  words, 
without  exhibition  of  the  least  malice  on  my  part.  The  most 
important  witness,  however,  was  a  poor  man,  living  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, who  made  oath  that  he  had  been  riding  toward  the 
court-house  on  the  evening  of  the  murder ;  had  passed  Mr. 
Conway,  and,  riding  on  farther,  came  in  sight  of  me,  and  he  had, 
before  reaching  me,  seen  me  turn  into  the  by-road  which  led  to- 
ward my  own  residence,  I  could  not  have  committed  the  mur- 
der, he  added,  for  Mr.  Conway  had  time  to  pass  the  spot  where 
his  body  was  found  before  I  could  have  ridden  back  to  the  high- 
road and  caught  up  with  him, 

"  Unfortunately,  the  witness  who  gave  this  testimony  bore  a 
very  indifferent  character,  and  I  could  see  that  more  than  one  of 
the  jurors  suspected  that  he  was  perjuring  himself. 

"Another  ugly-looking  circumstance  also  intervened  to  neu- 
tralize the  favorable  impression  thus  made.  From  the  irregular 
mode  of  proceeding,  the  fatal  knife  had  not  been  exhibited  in 
court.  Suddenly,  a  juror  called  for  it,  and  it  could  nowhere  be 
found  !  The  sheriff  swore  that  he  had  left  it  in  the  clerk's  office, 
where  he  supposed  it  to  be  entirely  safe.  Upon  searching  for  it, 
however,  in  the  drawer  where  he  had  deposited  it,  the  weapon 
was  missing. 

"When  that  fact  was  stated,  I  saw  a  curious  expression  pass 
over  the  fjices  of  more  than  one  of  the  jury.  They  evidently 
suspected  foul  play. 

"  '  Was  the  door  of  the  office  locked?'  asked  one  of  them. 

"  'Yes,  sir,'  was  the  reply. 

"  'Were  the  windows  secured?' 

"  *  By  shutters  with  bolts.' 

"  '  Are  all  the  bolts  on  the  windows  of  this  building  firm  ?' 


284  '  MOnUN. 


U  ( 


I  think  so,  sir.' 

There  is  one,  that  is  not!'  said  the  juror. 

•■'  And  he  pointed  to  a  long  iron  bolt  on  one  of  the  windows, 
which  bore  evident  traces  of  having  been  rent  from  its  socket. 

"  The  slieriff  looked  in  amazement  in  tiie  direction  indicated. 

"'You  are  right,  sir!'  he  said;  'some  one  has  entered  tlie 
court-house  by  breaking  open  the  shutter,  and  stolen  that  knife 
from  the  clerks'  officie,  which  is  never  locked.' 

"  A  meaning  silence  followed  the  words.  It  was  not  difBcult  to 
understand  it.  The  jury  looked  at  each  other,  and  in  theii 
glances  I  could  read  this — 'Mr.  Davenant  is  on  trial  for  his  life. 
He  or  his  friends  suborn  testimony  to  prove  an  alibi  on  the  night 
of  the  mnrder,  and  not  content  with  that,  they  hire  a  burglar  to 
enter  the  court-house  and  steal  the  knife  which  proves  his  connec- 
tion with  the  deed— that  it  may  not  appear  in  evidence  against  him.' 

"The  evidence  closed.  I  had  not  uttered  a  word.  I  had 
sworn  in  mv  heart  that  I  would  not  stir  a  finger  in  the  matter — 
but  now,  stung  beyond  endurance,  I  rose  and  addressed  the  jury 
in  impassioned  words.  'Their  verdict,'  I  told  them,  'was  of  little 
importance  if  I  was  to  lose  the  respect  of  my  fellow-citizens.  I 
had  made  no  effort  to  shape  their  decision,  but  now  on  the  brink, 
it  might  be  of  a  felon's  grave,  I  would  utter  my  dying  words.  I 
would  confine  myself  to  protesting  before  God,  and  on  my  honor, 
that  I  had  long  since  forgiven  George  Conway  the  wrongs  done 
me — that  the  scene  on  the  dav  of  his  murder  was  the  result  of 
momentary  irritability,  caused  by  business  annoyances,  and  not 
malice — that  I  had  forgotten  it  in  an  hour — returned  directly  to 
my  own  house — and  only  heard  of  the  murder  on  the  day  after 
its  commission.  As  to  the  knife — I  had  been  suspected  if  not 
charged  with  having  had  the  weapon  stolen.  Well!  my  answer 
to  that  was  to  declare  that,  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge  and 
belief,  the  murder  was  committed  with  my  own  Icnife!  More  than 
that.  A  witness  had  sworn  that  he  saw  me  turn  into  the  road 
to  my  own  residence,  at  such  a  distance  behind  George  Conway 
that  I  could  not  have  rejoined  him  before  he  had  passed  the  fatal 
spot.  The  witness  was  mistaken.  There  was  time.  By  ridij\g 
across  the  angle  through  the  thicket,,  I  could  easily  have  rejoined 
'him  ! 


THE    TRIAL.  ,  285 

"'And  now,  gentlemen,'  I  said,  'I  have  done.  I  have  left 
you  no  ground  to  charge  me  with  suhorning  testimony — with 
having  the  evidence  of  my  crime  stolen — with  plotting  in  dark- 
ness, to  hide  my  crime  and  bjiiid  your  eyes  in  determining  iny 
guilt  or  innocence.  That  knife  was  mine,  I  repeat.  It  was  pos- 
sible for  me  to  rejoin  Mr.  Conway,  and  do  him  to  death  by  a  blow 
with  it.  j^ow,  retire,  gentlemen  I  Bring  in  your  verdict !  Thank 
God!  no  taint  of  real  dishonor  will  rest  upon  a  Davenant,  and  I 
can  appear  before  my  Maker  as  I   stand  here  to-day — innocent!' 

"  Ten  minutes  afterward  tlie  jury  had  retired,  with  every  mark 
of  agitation  upon  their  faces.  The  great  concourse  of  spectators 
seemed  moved  almost  beyond  control. 

"Suddenly  the  crowd  opened,  I  saw  my  wife  hastening  throngh 
the  space  thus  made — a  living  wall  on  each  side — and  in  an 
instant  she  had  thrown  herself  into  my  arms,  with  a  low  cry 
which  brought  tears  to  the  roughest  faces  of  the  auditory.  I 
placed  my  arm  around  her,  remonstrated  with  her  for  this  ill- 
advised  proceeding,  and  was  trying  to  soothe  her,  when  she 
hastily  gave  me  a  letter.  A  strange  man  had  brought  it  an  hour 
before,  she  said — it  was  marked  'In  haste — this  will  save  Mr. 
Davenant's  life.'  She  had  mounted  her  riding  horse,  and  brought 
it  at  full  speed  in  person,  without  waiting  to  question  the 
stranger,  who  had  at  once  disappeared. 

"  I  opened  the  letter — glanced  at  its  contents — at  the  same 
instant  the  jury  made  their  appearance — and  the  clerk  said  : — 

"'Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  have  you  agreed  upon  a  verdict?' 

"  'We  have,  sir,'  said  the  foreman. 

"'What  is  it?' 

"'Not  guilty  I' 

"  The  court-house  rang  with  applause.  The  crowd  ruslied 
toward  me  to  shake  me  by  the  hand  and  congratulate  me.  Sud- 
denly, in  the  midst  of  tlie  tumult,  I  heard  the  furious  words  : — 

"  'Murderer!  you  have  escaped,  but  I  brand  you  before  God 
and  man  as  the  murderer  of  my  brother!' 

"It  was  Judge  Conway,  who,  mounted  upon  a  bench,  with 
glaring  eyes,  foaming  lips,  teeth  clenched,  in  a  wild  fury,  shook 
his  arm  at  me,  and  denounced  me  as  a  convict  before  God, 
if  not  before  man." 


286  MOHUN. 


XXIII. 

WHAT     THE    LETTEPw    CONTAIisTD. 

Geneeal  DzV%'exant  was  silent  for  a  moment.  The  deep  voice, 
so  long  resounding  in  my  ears,  made  the  silence  oppressive. 

"I^ow  you  know,  my  dear  colonel,"  he  suddenly  added,  ''  why 
my  son    can  not   form    an   alliance   with   a   daughter   of  Judge 

Conway." 

I  bowed  my  head.     The  whole  mystery  was  patent  before  me. 

"  The  family  opposition  is  mutual,"  said  General  Davenant, 
with  a  proud  smile;  "he  objects  because  he  believes  that  I 
murdered  his  brother — and  I  object  because  he  believes  it !  He 
insulted  me,  outraged  me — at  the  grave,  in  the  court-house,  in 
public,  as  in  private;  and  I  could  not  think  of  beseeching  hi3 
honor  to  give  his  consent  to  the  marriage  of  his  daughter  with 
the  son  of  an  'escaped  murderer.'" 

The  old  soldier  uttered  these  words  with  gloomy  bitterness  ;  but 
in  a  moment  he  had  regained  his  coolness. 

"  That  was  tlie  end  of  the  affair,"  he  said.  '•  I  went  home,  ac- 
companied by  a  cortege  of  friends  who  seemed  never  weary  of 
congratulating  me ;  and  on  the  next  day,  I  wrote  a  mortal  defi- 
ance to  Judge  Conway,  which  I  placed  in  the  hands  of  a  friend 
to  convey  to  him.  An  hour  afterward,  I  had  mounted  my  horse, 
ridden  rapidl}^  caught  up  with  this  friend  on  his  way  to  Five 
Forks,  and  had  taken  from  him  the  challenge,  which  I  tore  to  pieces. 
You  will  probably  comprehend  the  motive  which  compelled  me  to 
do  this.  It  was  not  repugnance  to  the  modern  form  of  single 
combat,  I  am  sorry  to  say.  Old  as  I  was,  I  had  still  the  ancient 
hallucination  on  that  subject.  I  did  not  then  know  that  duels 
were  mere  comedies — child's  play  ;  that  one  infantry  skirmish  re- 
sults in  the  shedding  of  more  blood  than  all  the  affairs  of  a  gener- 
ation. The  motive  that  induced  me  to  withdraw  my  challenge, 
was  one  which  you  will  probably  understand.  The  pale  face  of 
the  dead  George  Conway  had  risen  up  before  me — I  knew  liis 
broth(»r'8  deep  love  for  him — that  he  regarded  me  as  th«  dead 


*'BLOOD."  287 

man's  murderer;  and  I  no  longer  writhed  under  that  public  in- 
sult in  the  court-house,  or,  at  least  controlled  myself.  'Let 
liim  go  on  his  war,  poor,  stricken  heart!'  I  said  with  deep  pity; 
'I  forgive  him,  and  will  not  avenge  that  affront  to  me  I' 

"  Such  is  my  history,  colonel.  It  is  sad,  you  see.  I  have  re- 
lated it  to  explain  what  has  come  to  your  knowledge — the  bitter 
hostility  which  Judge  Conway  indulges  toward  me,  and  his 
frowns  at  the  very  name  of  Davenant.  These  events  occurred 
more  than  ten  years  ago.  During  all  that  time,  he  has  been 
laboring  under  the  belief  that  I  am  really  guilty  of  his  brother's 
blood.  See  where  my  '  high  pride  '  has  conducted  me,"  said  Gen- 
eral Davenant,  with  a  smile  of  inexpressible  melancholy  and  bit- 

tei-ness.    "I  was  proud  and  disdainful  on  the  day  of  my  trial T 

would  not  use  the  common  weapons  of  defence — I  risked  my  life 
by  refusing  counsel,  and  acknowledging  the  ownership  of  that 
knife.  Pride,  hauteur,  a  sort  of  disdain  at  refuting  a  charge  of 
base  dishonor — that  was  my  sentiment  then,  and  I  remain  as 
haughty  to-day  !  I  am  a  Davenant— I  was  found  'not  guilty'— 
why  go  and  tell  Judge  Conway  the  contents  of  that  letter  re- 
ceived in  the  court-house?" 

"  The  contents  of  the  letter,  general  ?" 

"Yes,  colonel." 

"  What  did  it  contain  ?— I  beg  you  to  tell  me !" 

"  The  confession  of  the  murderer  of  George  Conway  !" 


xxiy. 

"BLOOD." 


Gexeeal  Dayexant  had  scarcely  uttered  the  words  which  I 
have  just  recorded,  when  rapid  firing  was  heard  in  the  woods, 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  his  head-quarters ;  and  a  moment  after- 
ward a  courier  came  at  a  gallop,  bearing  a  dispatch. 

"My  horse!"  came  in  the  brief  tone  of  command. 

And  General  Davenant  tore  open  the  dispatch,  which  he  read 
attentively. 


288  MOHUN. 

"The  enemy  are  advancing  to  attack  me,"  he  said; /'this  note 
was  written  ten  minutes  since.  The  attack  has  commenced. 
"Wir  you  go  and  see  it,  colonel?'' 

"Willinglv." 

General  Davenant  ordered  another  horse,  as  my  own  was  use- 
less; we  mounted  and  rode  at  full  speed  through  the  woods;  in 
five  minutes  we  were  at  the  scene  of  action. 

A  heavy  assault  was  in  progress.  The  enemy  had  massed  a 
large  force  in  front  of  the  hastily  erected  earth-works,  and  were 
endeavoring,  by  a  determined  charge,  to  carry  them. 

General  Davenant  was  everywhere  amid  the  fight,  the  guiding 
and  directing  head,  and  beside  him  I  saw  distinctly  in  the  star- 
light, the  brave  figure  of  little  Charley,  who  had  started  from  his 
couch,  buckled  on  a  huge  sword,  and  was  now  galloping  to  and 
fro,  cheering  on  the  men  as  gallantly  as  his  father.  It  was  an 
inspiring  sight  to  see  that  child  in  his  little  braided  jacket,  with 
his  jaunty  cap  balanced  gallantly  on  his  auburn  curls — to  see  his 
rosy  cheeks,  his  smiling  lips,  and  his  small  hand  flourishing  that 
tremendous  sabre,  as  he  galloped  gaily  amid  the  fire. 

"And  yet,"  I  said,  "there  are  those  who  will  not  believe  in 
hlood or  race!" 

Fill  the  space  which  that  dash  occupies,  my  dear  reader,  with 
an  abrupt  "duck"  of  the  head,  as  a  bullet  went  though  my 
hat!. 

The  charge  was  repulsed  in  twenty  minutes;  but  the  firing  con- 
tinued throughout  the  night.  "When  it  ceased,  toward  daybreak, 
and  I  rode  back  with  General  Davenant  and  Cljarley,  who  was 
as  gay  as  a  lark,  and  entertained  me  with  reminiscences  of  Get- 
tysburg, I  was  completely  broken  down  with  fatigue.  Throwing 
myself  upon  a  bed,  in  General  Davenant's  tent,  I  fell  asleep. 

When  I  opened  my  eyes  the  sun  was  high  in  the  heavens.  I 
looked  around  for  the  general,  he  was  invisible. 

I  rose,  and  at  the  door  of  the  tent  met  Charley,  with  bright 
eves,  and  cheeks  like  roses. 

"The  general  has  gone  to  corps  head-quarters,  colonel,  and 
told  me  to  present  you  his  compliments,  and  beg  that  yon  will 
remain  to  breakfast." 

After  which  formal  and  somewhat  pompous  sent-ence  the  youth- 


THE    BLUE    SEPwPENT.  289 

ful  Charley  drew  near,  slapped  me  in  a  friendly  way  upon  the 
back,  and  exclaimed,  with  dancing  eyes  : — 

"I  say,  colonel!  wasn't  that  a  jolly  old  he-fight  we  had  last 
night?" 

My  reply  "was  a  laugh,  and  a  glance  of  admiration  at  the  gay 
boy. 

I  declined  the  invitation  of  General  Davenant,  as  I  had  to  re- 
turn. My  horse  was  brought,  and  I  found  his  foot  much  easier. 
In  half  an  hour  I  was  on  the  road  to  Petersburg. 


XXV. 

THE    BLUE    SERPEXT. 


Qn'ce  back  at  the  "Cedars,"  I  reflected  deeply  upon  the  history 
which  I  had  heard  from  the  lips  of  General  Davenant. 

I  shall  refrain,  however,  from  recording  these  reflections.  If 
the  reader  will  cast  his  eyes  back  over  the  pages  of  these  me- 
moirs, he  will  perceive  that  I  have  confined  myself  generally  to 
the  simple  narration  of  events — seldom  pausing  to  ©O'er  my  own 
comments  upon  the  scenes  passing  before  me.  Were  I  to  do  so, 
wlnat  an  enormous  volume  I  should  write,  and  how  the  reader 
would  bo  bored !  Now,  to  bore  a  reader,  is,  in  my  eyes,  one  of 
the  greatest  crimes  of  which  an  author  can  be  guilty.  It  is  the 
unpardonable  sin,  indeed,  in  a  writer.  For  which  reason,  and 
acting  upon  the  theory  that  a  drama  ought  to  explain  itself  and 
be  its  own  commentator,  I  spare  the  worthy  reader  of  these  pages 
all  those  reflections  which  I  indulged  in,  after  hearing  General 
Davenant's  t-ingular  narrative. 

"Pride!  pride!"  I  muttered,  rising  at  the  end  of  an  hour.  "I 
think  I  can  understand  that — exceptional  as  is  this  instance ;  but 
I  wish  I  had  heard  who  was  the  '  real  murderer  '  of  George 
Conway  I" 

Having  thus  dismissed  the  subject,  I  set  about  drawing  up  my 


290  MOHUN. 

official  report,  and  this  charmingly  common-place  employment 
soon  banished  from  my  mind  every  more  inviting  subject ! 

It  was  nearly  ten  days  after  this  my  first  ride  into  the  wilds  of 
Dinwiddle,  before  I  again  set  out  to  look  after  the  cavalry.  The 
end  of  October  was  approaching.  Grant  had  continued  to  hammer 
away  along  his  immense  line  of  earth-works ;  and  day  by  day, 
step  by  step,  he  had  gone  on  extending  his  left  in  the  direction 
of  the  Southside  railroad. 

If  the  reader  will  keep  this  in  view,  he  will  understand  every 
movement  of  the  great  adversaries.  Grant  had  vainly  attempted 
to  carry  Lee's  works  by  assault,  or  surprise, — his  only  hope  of 
success  now  was  to  gradually  extend  his  lines  toward  the  South- 
side  road ;  seize  upon  that  great  war  artery  which  supplied  life- 
blood  to  Lee's  army;  and  thus  compel  the  Confederate  command- 
er to  retreat  or  starve  in  his  trenches.  One  tiling  was  plain — that 
when  Grant  reached  the  Southside  railroad,  Lee  was  lost, unless  he 
could  mass  liis  army  and  cut  his  way  through  the  forces  opposed  to 
him.  And  this  fact  was  so  obvious,  the  situation  was  so  apparent 
— that  from  the  moment  when  the  Weldon  road  was  seized  upon 
by  General  Grant,  that  officer  and  his  great  adversary  never  re- 
moved their  eyes  from  the  real  point  of  importance,  the  true  key 
of  the  lock — namely  the  Southside  railroad,  on  Lee's  right. 

Elsewhere  Grant  attacked,  but  it  was  to  cover  some  movement, 
still  toward  his  left.  He  assaulted  Lee's  works,  north  of  the 
James — but  it  was  south  of  the  Appomattox  that  he  was  looking. 
The  operations  of  the  fall  and  winter,  on  the  lines  around  Peters- 
burg were  a  great  series  of  marches  and  counter-marches  to  and 
fro,  suddenly  bursting  into  battles.  Grant  massed  his  armv 
heavily  in  front  of  the  works  in  Charles  City  opposite  the  left  of 
Lee;  attempted  to  draw  in  that  direction  his  adversary's  main 
force;  then  suddenly  the  blue  lines  vanished  ;  they  were  rushed 
by  railroad  toward  Petersburg,  and  Grant  hastened  to  thrust  his 
columns  still  farther  beyond  Lee's  right,  in  order  to  turn  it  and 
seize  the  Southside  road. 

That  was  not  the  conception  of  a  great  soldier,  it  may  be, 
reader ;  but  it  was  ingenious.  General  Grant  was  not  a  man  of 
great  military  brain — but  he  was  patient,  watchful,  and  persever- 
ing.    To  defeat  Lee,  what  was  wanted  was  genius,  or  obstinacy — 


THE    BLUE    SERPEN'T.  291 

2^apoleon  or  Grant.  In  the  long  run,  perseverance  was  going  to 
achieve  the  results  of  genius.  The  tortoise  vras  going  to  reach 
the  same  goal  with  the  hare.  It  was  a  question  of  time — that  was 
all. 

So,  throughout  October,  as  throughout  September,  and  August, 
and  July,  General  Grant  thundered  everywhere  along  his  forty 
miles  of  earth-works,  but  his  object  was  to  raise  a  smoke  denso 
enough  to  hide  the  blue  columns  moving  westward.  "Hurrah! 
we  have  got  Fort  Harrison!"  exclaimed  his  enthusiastic  subordi- 
nates. Grant  would  much  rather  have  heard,  "We  have  got  the 
White  Oak  road  !"  Fort  Harrison  was  a  strong  out-post  simply  ; 
the  White  Oak  road  was  the  postern  door  into  the  citadel. 

Gradually  moving  thus,  from  the  Jerusalem  plank  road  to  the 
Weldou  railroad,  from  the  Weldon  railroad  to  the  Squirrel  Level 
road,  from  the  Squirrel  Level  road  toward  the  Boydton  road,  be- 
yond which  was  the  White  Oak  road,  Grant  came,  toward  the 
end  of  October,  to  the  banks  of  the  Rowanty.  As  this  long  blue 
serpent  unfolded  its  coils  and  stretched  its  threatening  head  into 
the  Dinwiddle  woods,  Lee  had  extended  his  right  to  confront 
it.  The  great  opponents  moved  pari  passu,  each  marching  in 
face  of  each  other.  Like  two  trained  and  skillful  swordsmen, 
they  changed  ground  without  moving  their  eyes  from  each  others' 
faces— the  Ijinge  was  met  by  the  parry  ;  and  this  seemed  destined 
to  go  on  to  infinity. 

That  was  the  unskilled  opinion,  however.  The  civilians  thought 
that — Lee  did  not.  It  was  plain  that  this  must  end  somewhere. 
Lee's  line  would  not  bear  much  further  extension.  It  reached 
now  from  a  point  on  the  Williamsburg  road,  east  of  Richmond,  to 
Burgess's  Mill,  west  of  Petersburg,  His  forty  thousand  men 
were  strung  over  forty  miles.  That  made  the  line  so  thin  that 
it  would  bear  little  more.  Stretched  a  little  farther  still,  and  it 
would  snap. 

Lee  called  in  vain  for  more  men.  The  Government  could  not 
send  them.  He  predicted  the  result  of  failure  to  receive  them. 
They  did  not  come. 

And  Grant  continued  to  move  on,  and  Lee  continued  to  stretch 
his  thin  line,  until  it  began  to  crack. 

Such  was  the  situation  of  affairs  at  the  end  of  October — when 


292  MO  II  UN. 

Grant   aimed  a  heavy  blow  to  cut  the  line  in  pieces.     The  blue 
serpent  raised  its  head,  and  sprung  to  strike. 


XXVI. 

THE  HOUSE  NEAR  MONK'S   NECK,  AND  ITS  OWNER. 

Sucn  was  the  critical  condition  of  affairs  when  I  again  set  out 
to  make  my  regular  tour  of  inspection  of  the  cavalry. 

Crossing  Hatcher's  Run  at  Burgess's  Mill,  I  turned  to  the  left, 
and  soon  found  myself  riding  on  between  the  lofty  walls  of  pine, 
through  which  the  roads  of  Dinwiddie  wind  like  a  serpent. 

When  near  Monk's  Neck,  I  determined  to  stop  and  feed  my 
horse.  I  always  carried,  strapped  behind  my  saddle,  a  small  bag 
containing  about  a  feed  of  corn  for  that  purpose ;  and  as  I  gen- 
erally selected  some  wayside  house  where  I  could,  myself,  rest 
while  my  horse  was  feeding,  I  now  looked  about  me  to  discover 
such. 

My  search  was  speedily  rewarded.  Three  hundred  yards  from 
the  road,  in  a  clump  of  stunted  trees,  I  saw  a  small  house,  which 
I  soon  reached.  The  surroundings  of  the  establishment  were 
poor  and  mean  beyond  expression.  Through  the  open  door  I 
could  see  that  the  interior  was  even  more  poverty-stricken  than 
the  outside. 

As  I  dismounted,  a  man  came  to  this  door.  Are  you  fond  of 
natural  history,  reader ;  and  have  you  ever  amused  yourself  by 
instituting  comparisons  between  certain  human  beings  and  cer- 
tain animals — beasts,  birds,  or  fishes?  I  have  seen  men  who 
resembled  horses,  owls,  hawks,  sheep, — and  geese.  This  one 
resembled  the  bird  called  the  penguin.  Read  the  description  of 
the  penguins :  "  Their  feet  are  placed  more  posteriorly  than  in  any 
other  birds,  and  only  afford  them  support  by  resting  on  the  tar- 
sus, which  is  enlarged,  like  the  sole  of  the  foot  of  a  quadruped. 
The  wings  are  very  small,  and  arc  furnished  with  rudiments  of 
feathers  only,  resembling  scales.     Their  bodies  are  covered  with 


THE    HOUSE    NEAR    MONK'S    NEOK.    293 

oblong  feathers,  harsh  to  the  touch,  and  closely  applied  over  each 
other.  *****  Their  motions  are  slow  and  awkward,  and 
from  the  form  of  their  wings,  they  can  not  fly." 

The  individual  before  me  recalled  the  penguin — except  that  he 
was  excessively  lean  instead  of  fat.  The  feet  accorded  with  the 
above  description  ;  the  arms  were  short,  and  hung  like  wings ; 
the  coat  of  the  worthy  was  a  ragged  "  cut-away,"  which  ended  in  a 
point  behind,  like  the  tail  of  a  bird  ;  and  the  movements  of  the  indi- 
vidual were  "  slow  and  awkward  "  to  a  degree  which  forbade  the 
supposition  that,  under  any  circumstances,  he  could  be  induced  to 
fly.  Add  a  long,  crane-like  neck,  two  bleared  eyes,  a  mouth 
stretching  from  ear  to  ear,  and  a  nose  like  the  bill  of  a  duck. 
You  will  then  have  before  you  the  gentleman  who  bore,  as  I  soon 
discovered,  the  classic  name  of  Mr.  Alibi. 

"When  the  w^orthy,  who  had  flapped  his  arms,  by  w^ay  of  greet- 
ing, and  shown  me  into  his  mansion,  informed  me  that  such  was 
his  name,  I  knew  that  the  house  at  which  I  now  found  myself  was 
the  place  of  meeting  agreed  upon  between  Nighthawk  and 
Swartz,  at  their  interview  in  Richmond,  Here,  also,  the  man  and 
■woman,  rescued  by  Swartz  on  the  Nottoway,  had  been  left,  on 
his  way  to  Petersburg,  as  the  spy  had  informed  us  in  the  Wil- 
derness. 

"  Well,  general,"  croaked  Mr.  Alibi,  with  a  smile,  and  in  a  nasal 
voice,  "  wha — a — t's  the  news  ?" 

"  I  am  only  a  lieutenant-colonel,  Mr.  Alibi." 

"  Well,  colonel,  any  thing  stirring?" 
•    "  Nothing,  I  think.     Any  news  with  you,  Mr.  Alibi  ?     I  have 
heard  of  you  from  a  friend  of  yours." 

"Eh!     And  who  mout  that  be,  colonel?" 

"  Mr.  Nighthawk.     Have  you  seen  him  lately  ?" 

"  Na — a — a — w,"  said  Mr.  Alibi,  with  a  prolonged  drawl 
through  his  nose,  and  flapping  his  arms  in  an  uncouth  fashion, 
"  I  ain't  seen  him  for  a  long  spell  now." 

"Nor  Swartz,  either?" 

"  Mr.  Alibi  looked  keenly  at  me. 

"Na — a — a — w,  nor  him  nuther,  leftenant-colonel." 

"Leave  out  the  'leftenant,'  my  dear  Mr.  Alibi;  and  call  me 
'  colonel ' — it  is  shorter,"  I  said,  laughing,  as  I  looked  at  the  queer 


294  MOHUN. 

figure.  "And  ro  you  have  not  seen  Swartz  lately ?  He  made 
an  appointment  to  meet  Nighthawk  here." 

"  iMade  an  app'intment,  did  he,  leftenant — least  ways,  colonel?" 

"  Yes." 

"  With  Mr.  Nighthawk  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  I  reckon  they  are  both  dead,  or  they'd  'a'  kept  their 
app'i-ntment." 

''Nighthawk  dead!" 

"He  must  be,  sartain." 

"  You  are  mistaken,  friend  Alibi,"  said  a  voice  behind  him. 

And  Nighthawk,  in  person,  entered  the  house. 


xxvn. 

STARVATION. 


Nighthawk  had  appeared,  as  was  his  wont,  as  if  he  had  risen 
trora  the  earth. 

But  this  circumstance  disappeared  from  my  mind  at  once.  I 
"vvas  looking  at  his  face.  It  had  completely  lost  its  benignant 
expression ;  was  pale,  and  bore  marks  of  great  fatigue.  Some- 
thing of  the  old  clerical  benignity  came  to  the  eyes  as  he  greeted 
me  cordially ;  but  sitting  down  in  the  nearest  chair,  as  though 
completely  wearied  out,  he  became  as  dispirited  as  before. 

"And  what  mout  be  the  matter  with  you,  Mr.  Nighthawk?" 
said  Mr,  Alibi :  "you  look  's  if  the  night  hags  had  been  a-riding 
of  you  with  spurs  on." 

And  Mr.  Alibi  flapped  his  wings,  stretched  out  his  neck,  and 
seemed  about  to  cackle. 

"I  am  tired,  Alibi,"  said  Nighthawk,  briefly,  "  go  to  the  spriijg 
and  get  me  some  fresh  water.  You  needn't  come  back  in  a  hurry, 
as  I  wish  to  talk  with  Colonel  Surry." 

And  Mr.  Nighthawk  rose,  and  carelessly  sat  down  near  the 
window,  through  which  he  could  reconnoitre. 


STARVATIOIlT.  295 

The  object  of  this  movement  was  soon  evident.  Mr.  Alibi 
took  a  bucket,  and  went  out  as  though  to  seek  the  spring. 
When  he  had  gone  a  few  paces,  however,  he  turned  to  the  right 
and  disappeared  behind  the  house,  toward  the  opposite  window, 
which  was  open. 

Nighthawk  rose,  went  to  the  door,  and  caught  Mr.  Alibi  eaves- 
dropping— the  result  of  which  was  that  the  penguin  hastily 
moved  off,  muttering.  In  a  minute  he  had  shambled  along  and 
disappeared. 

No  sooner  had  his  figure  vanished  than  Nighthawk  turned 
hastily  toward  me. 

"  Will  yon  go  with  me  to-night,  colonel,  on  an  expedition  I 
intend  to  make?"  he  said, 

"An  expedition,  Nighthawk?" 

"  A  work  of  mercy,  colonel ;  let  us  talk  quickly.  That  man, 
Alibi,  is  a  spy — for  both  sides — and  I  wish  to  arrange  every  thing 
before  he  returns." 

"Explain,  Nighthawk." 

"  I  will,  colonel.  Do  yon  remember  that  night  in  Richmond, 
when  Swartz  made  an  appointment  to  meet  me  at  a  house  near 
Monk's  Neck?" 

"Perfectly." 

"  Well,  this  is  the  house, — and  I  expected  important  results 
from  that  meeting.  Unfortunately,  I  was  prevented,  by  some 
pickets  who  arrested  me,  from  reaching  this  spot  on  the  ap- 
pointed day.  I  was  here  two  days  afterward,  however — asked 
for  Swartz — he  had  not  been  here — and  as  that  was  the  most  un- 
accountable thing  in  the  world  to  me,  I  set  out  to  find  him." 

"  In  the  enemy's  lines?" 

"Yes,  colonel.  I  had  no  doubt  I  would  come  across  him  some- 
where. So  I  went  through  the  country  behind  the  Federal  lines ; 
looked  everywhere  for  my  man,  have  been  looking  ever  since  I 
left  you — and  at  last  have  found  him." 

"Where?" 

"In  the  upper  room  of  a  deserted  house,  not  three  miles  from 
this  place,  within  the  enemy's  picket  line." 

"  The  upper  room  of  a  deserted  house?" 

"  Confined — put  to  starve  there,  colonel !  The  work  of  Darke, 
13 


296  MOnUN. 

and  that  she-devil  who  goes  about  with  him,  I  am  willing  to 
swear,  colonel!" 

"Good  heavens!  Is  it  possible?"  I  said,  "Swartz  is  shut  up 
and  left  to  starve  ?" 

"  Exactly,  colonel — and  here  is  how  I  know  it.  I  was  coming 
back,  worn  out  bj  my  long  search  after  Swartz,  when  in  passing 
this  house,  I  came  suddenly  upon  a  picket  of  about  fifty  men.  To 
avoid  being  seen.  I  ran,  being  on  foot,  and  got  behind  the  house.  I 
had  no  sooner  done  so,  than  I  heard  groans  from  the  upper  part  of 
it — and  as  the  house  was  entirely  uninhabited,  these  sounds  excit- 
ed mv  curiositv — not  to  sav  astonishment.  Well,  I  determined  to 
find  the  origin  of  them.  I  crawled  through  a  broken  window — 
reached  the  second  floor  by  a  dusty  staircase,  and  went  straight 
toward  a  door,  behind  which  I  heard  the  groaning.  It  was 
heavily  locked,  and  I  could  not  even  shake  it.  Then  I  ran  to  the 
partition  between  the  room  and  the  passage — found  it  made  of 
boards,  between  the  cracks  of  which  I  could  see — and  looking  in, 
I  saw  Swartz!  He  was  sitting  on  an  old  broken  chair,  beside  a 
table  with  three  legs,  and  his  hand  was  buried  in  his  hair,  as  if 
he  was  trying  to  tear  it  out. 

""When  I  called  to  him,  he  started,  and  his  groans  stopped. 
He  turned  his  head.  Xo  sooner  had  he  recognized  me  than  he 
cried  out  with  joy  ;  and  for  some  moments  he  could  say  nothing 
but  "  Save  me j  save  me!  Nighthawk!  They  are  starving  me  to 
death?" 

"I  will  not  lengthen  out  my  story,  colonel.  I  see  Alibi  coming 
back.  I  had  scarcely  exchanged  ten  words  with  Swartz,  when  I 
heard  the  gallop  of  a  horse,  and  running  to  the  window,  saw 
tliat  woman  get  off.  A  second's  reflection  told  me  that  she  was 
coming  into  the  house  ;  I  knew  that,  if  discovered,  I  would  be  shot 
or  taken  prisoners— and  I  decided  on  my  course  in  a  minute.  I 
said  to  Swartz,  'wait  a  few  hours — I  will  go  and  bring  you  help.' 
I  glided  through  a  back  window,  dropped  to  the  ground,  ran 
into  the  bushes — and  here  I  am,  colonel,  waiting  for  night  to 
come,  to  return  and  rescue  Swartz." 

"  Can  you  do  so?" 

"  With  one  companion — to  look  out  while  I  pick  the  lock." 

"  Good — I'll  go  with  you  ;  and  provide  for  contingencies,  too." 


BIRDS    OF    PREY.  297 

I  had  seen  a  cavalryman  passing  along  the. road  in  front  of  tlie 
house,  and  as  Mr.  Alibi  came  in  at  the  same  moment,  I  sent  him 
to  hail  the  wayfarer,  and  bring  him  to  the  house.  As  soon  as  Mr. 
Alibi  had  left  us  on  his  errand,  I  tore  a  sheet  from  my  note-book, 
obtained  from  Nighthawk  an  exact  description  of  the  locality 
where  Swartz  wg,s  confined,  and  writing  a  note  to  Mohun,  in- 
formed him  of  our  intention.  If  he  could  send  a  squadron  of 
cavalry  to  drive  in  the  picket  near  the  house,  it  would  insure  the 
the  success  of  our  design,  I  added. 

As  I  finished  this  note,  Mr.  Alibi  appeared  with  the  cavalry- 
man. He  proved  to  belong  to  Mohun's  command.  I  entrusted 
the  note  to  him,  cautioning  him  that  it  was  important,  and  must 
reach  Mohun  promptly — then  I  looked  at  my  watch. 

It  was  four  o'clock.  Already  the  sun  was  declining  toward  the 
wooded  horizon  ;  I  looked  toward  it,  and  then  at  Xighthawk, 
who  nodded. 

"  In  an  hour,  colonel,"  he  said,  "  and  as  I  am  broken  down, 
I  will  sleep." 

"  With  these  words,  Nighthawk  leaned  back  in  his  split-bottom 
chair,  covered  his  face  with  his  handkerchief,  and  in  ten  seconds 
his  long,  quiet  breathing  showed  plainly  that  he  was  asleep. 

"A  cur'ous  man,  leftenant-colonel !  a  cur'ous  man  is  Mr. 
Nighthawkl"  said  Mr.  Alibi. 

And  he  flapped  his  arms,  and  wriggled  about  in  a  manner  so 
extraordinary  that  he  looked  more  like  a  penguin  than  ever. 


XXVIII. 

BIRDS     OF    PREY. 


Night  came  on.  I  left  ray  horse  at  Mr.  Alibi's ;  set  off  on  foot 
with  Nighthawk;  crossed  the  Rowanty,  separating  the  opposing 
pickets,  by  a  moss-covered  log,  in  a  shadowy  nook,  and  was  ap- 
proaching the  house  in  which  Swartz  was  shut  up. 

Nighthawk  moved  with  the  stealthy  and  gliding  step  of  a  wild- 


298  MOHUN. 

cat.  I  could  see  the  man  was  a  born  scout;  intended  by  nature 
for  the  calling  he  had  adopted — secret  service.  He  scarcely  ut- 
tered a  word ;  when  he  did,  it  was  in  tones  so  low  that  they  were 
lost  in  the  whisper  of  the  wfhd,  amid  the  great  trailing  vines  de- 
pending from  the  trees,  and  I  was  compelled  to  lean  my  ear  close 
to  catch  the  words. 

Fifty  paces  from  the  bank,  a  shadowy  object  on  horseback  was 
visible  by  the  dim  light. 

"The  vedette,"  murmured  Nighthawk,  "but  he  need  not  see 
us." 

And  plunging,  or  rather  gliding  into  the  shadow  of  the  trees, 
he  led  the  way  without  noise,  to  a  point  directly  in  rear  of  tlie 
vedette. 

A  hundred  yards  farther  a  fire  twinkled ;  and  around  this  fire 
were  the  dusky  figures  of  men  and  horses.  This  was  evidently 
the  picket. 

Three  hundred  paces  to  the  left,  rose  a  darkobject,  sombre  and 
lugubrious  against  the  night,  which  it  exceeded  in  blackness. 
Only  in  the  upper  portion  of  the  house,  a  dim  light,  like  a  star, 
glittered. 

"  Some  one  is  yonder,"  came  from  Nighthawk  in  a  murmur  as 
before,  "  let  us  go  there,  colonel." 

And  crouching  down  until  his  body  nearly  reached  the  earth, 
my  companion  glided,  snake-like,  toward  the  house.  I  imitated 
him ;  we  passed  unobserved,  and  almost  immediately  were  be- 
hind the  house. 

Xighthawk  then  rose  erect,  and  said  in  a  whisper: — 

"I  am  going  to  reconnoitre.  Remain  here,  colonel.  If  I  think 
you  can  come  up  without  danger,  I  will  make  you  a  signal 
through  that  window." 

"With  these  words  Xighthawk  pointed  to  an  open  window 
about  ten  feet  from  the  ground;  glided  past  me  through  the 
broken  sash  of  one  beside  which  we  were  standing,  and  disap- 
peared like  a  shadow. 

I  waited,  holding  my  breath.  From  the  upper  portion  of  the 
house  came  the  muffled  sound  of  voices.  I  was  endeavoring  to 
distinguish  the  words  uttered,  when  I  saw  Xighthawk  appear  at 
the  upper  window,  and  make  me  a  sign. 


DARKE'S    PAST    LIFE.  299 

That  sign  indicated  that  I  might  ascend  with  a  reasonahle 
amount  of  safety ;  and  passing  without  noise  through  the  win- 
dow, I  found  myself  in  a  bare  and  deserted  apartment,  with  a 
single  shutterless  window  opposite  me.  On  the  right  was  an 
open  door.  I  passed  through  it,  and  found  myself  at  the  foot  of  a 
rough  stairway,  occupying  half  of  a  narrow  passage. 

Ascending,  not  without  more  than  one  creak,  which,  I  must 
confess,  sent  a  tingle  through  my  nerves,  I  reached  the  upper 
landing,  found  myself  in  front  of  a  closed  door,  and  beside  this 
door  encountered  the  warning  hand  of  Nighthawk. 

"Look!"  he  said. 

And  drawing  me  toward  hira,  he  pointed  through  a  crack  in 
the  board  partition,  which  separated  the  passage  from  the  apart- 
ment. 


XXIX. 

DARKE'S  PAST  LIEE. 


Leaning  on  Nighthawk's  shoulder,  I  placed  my  eye  at  the  ap- 
erture. 

On  a  broken  cliair  beside  the  three-legged  table  sat  Darke, 
booted,  spurred,  and  armed  with  pistol  and  sabre.  In  an  old 
rocking-chair,  without  arms,  the  singular  woman,  who  seemed  to 
accompany  him  everywhere,  sat  rocking  to  and  fro,  and  care- 
lessly tapping  with  a  small  whip,  the  handsome  gray  riding-habit 
which  defined  her  slender  and  graceful  figure. 

Facing  them,  on  an  old  bed  frame,  sat  the  unfortunate  Swartz 
— but  I  would  scarcely  have  recognized  him,  if  I  had  not  known 
that  it  was  he.  His  frame  had  fallen  away  almost  to  nothing. 
His  clothes  hung  upon  him  as  upon  a  wooden  pole.  His  cheeks 
were  pale,  sunken ;  his  eyes  hollow  ;  his  bearing,  cowed,  abject, 
and  submissive  beyond  expresssion. 

Let  me  spare  the  reader  one  horror,  however.  Hunger  was 
not  torturing  the  unfortunate  man  at  this  moment.  Beside  him, 
on  the  floor,  lay  a  piece  of  meat,  and  an  unfinished  loaf — thus 


300  MOHUN. 

it  was  evident  that  food  had  been  brouglit  to  him ;  and  as 
some  of  that  food  remained  uneaten,  he  must  have  satisfied  his 
hunger. 

From  Swartz,  my  glance  passed  to  Darke.  This  second  survey 
of  the  wortliv  proved  to  me  that  he  was  what  is  succinctly  styled 
"  half-drunk."  But  drink  appeared  not  to  have  exhilarated  him. 
It  seemed  even  to  have  made  him  more  morose.  In  the  eves  and 
lips  of  the  heavily  bearded  Hercules  could  be  read  a  species  of 
gloomy  sarcasm — a  something  resembling  bitter  melancholy. 

The  woman  in  the  gray  dress,  had  never  appeared  cooler.  She 
rocked  to  and  fro  in  her  chair  with  an  air  of  perfect  insouciance. 

The  interview  had  evidently  lasted  some  time  before  our  arrival 
at  the  house;  but,  as  the  reader  will  perceive,  we  came  soon 
enough  to  overhear  a  somewhat  singular  revelation. 

As  I  reached  my  position  near  the  door,  Darke  was  speaking  to 
Swartz  : — 

"You  ask  why  you  are  shut  up  here  to  starve,"  he  said,  "and 
as  I  have  some  time  on  my  hands  to-night,  I  am  going  to  tell  you. 
That  might  be  called  'impi'udent.'  No!  I  am  talking  to  a  dead 
man!  You  see  I  hold  out  no  false  hopes — you  will  not  leave  this 
house  alive  probably — I  will  go  back,  and  tell  you  something 
which  will  serve  to  explain  the  whole." 

Darke  paused  a  moment,  and  tlien  gazed  with  a  strange  mix- 
ture of  gloom  and  tenderness  upon  the  gray  woman. 

"Perhaps  you,  too,  madam,"  he  said,  speaking  in  alow  tone, 
"  may  be  ignorant  of  a  part  of  my  history.  You  know  the  worst 
— but  not  all.  You  shall  know  every  thing.  Listen ;  and  I  beg  you 
will  not  interrupt  me.  About  ten  years  ago,  I  chanced  to  be  at 
Dinwiddle  Court-House,  a  few  miles  only  from  this  spot;  and  one 
day  a  certain  Mr.  George  Conway  visited  the  court-house  to  re- 
ceive a  considerable  sum  of  money  which  was  to  be  paid  to  him," 

At  the  words  "a  certain  Mr.  George  Conway,"  uttered  by  the 
speaker,  in  a  hoarse  and  hesitating  voice,  I  very  nearly  uttered  an 
exclamation.  That  name,  which  General  Davenant's  recent  nar- 
rative had  surrounded  with  so  many  gloomy  associations,  pro- 
duced a  profound  effect  on  me,  as  it  now  escaped  from  this  man's 
lips ;  and  had  it  not  been  for  Nighthawk's  warning  pressure  on 
my  arm,  I  should  probably  have  betrayed  our  vicinity.     Fortu- 


DARKE'S    PAST    LIFE 


301 


nately  I  suppressed  the  rising  exclamation;  it  Lad  attracted  no 
attention;  and  Darke  went  on  in  the  same  low  tone:— 

"  I  was  in  the  clerk's  office  of  Dinwiddie  when  the  money  T  re- 
fer to  was  paid  to  Mr.  Conway.     It  amounted  to  about  ten  thou- 
sand dollars,  and  as  I  had  at  that  time  no  business  in  the  reijion 
more  important  than  hanging  around  the  tavern,  and  drinking'and 
playing  cards— as,  besides  this,  I  was  at  the  end  of  my  resources, 
having   lost   my  last  penny  on   the  night  before,  at   the   card- 
table— the  idea  occurred  to  me  that  it  would  not  be  a  bad  plan 
to  ride  after  Mr.  Conway  ;  accost  him  on  the  road ;  represent  my 
necessities   to  him,  and  request  a  small  loan  out  of  his  abundant 
means,  to  prevent  myself  from  being  deprived  of  my  luxuries- 
liquor  and  cards.     Is  that  a  roundabout  way  of  saying  I  intended 
to  act  the  highwayman,  perhaps  the— murderer— on  this  occasion  ? 
By  no  means,  madam !     What  is  highway  robbery  ?     Is  it  not  the 
brutal  and  wanton  robbery  of  the  poor  as  well  as  the  rich  ?    Well,  I 
was  not  going  to  rob  anybody.    I  was  going  to  request  a  small  loan 
—and  so  far  from  intending  violence,  or— murder — "  be  uttered 
that  word  always  in  a  hesitating  voice— '•  I  swear,  I  had  no  such 
intention.     I  was  entirely  unarmed ;  upon  my  whole  person  there 
was  not  one  deadly  weapon— it  was  only  by  accident  that  I  found, 
when  riding  out  of  the  court-house,  that  I  had  a  small  pen-knife 
in  my  pocket.     This  I  had  picked  up,  by  pure  accident  from  the 
table  of  the  clerk's  office,  where  some  one  had  laid  it  down.     I 
Lad  carelessly  commenced  paring  my  nails  with  it— my  attention 
was  attracted  by  something  else.     I  finished  paring  my  nails,  and 
without  being  aware  of  wLat  I  was  doing,  put  the  knife  in  my 
pocket. 

"  Well,  you  may  think,  perhaps,  all  this  is  irrelevant.  You  are 
mistaken.  Many  things  turned  on  that  knife.  The  devil  himself 
placed  it  in  my  grasp  that  day !" 


302  MO  HUN. 

XXX. 

STABBED    "XOT    MUPwDEPwED." 

""Well,"  Darke  continued,  "I  have  told  you  ray  design,  and 
now  I  will  inform  you  how  I  carried  it  out. 

"I  saw  Mr.  George  Conway  receive  the  money — in  notes,  bank 
notes,  and  gold.  That  was  enough ;  I  knew  the  road  he  would 
take ;  and  going  to  the  stable  of  the  tavern  I  saddled  ray  horse, 
and  rode  out  of  the  place  in  a  western  direction.  When  I  was 
out  of  sight,  however,  I  turned  eastward  toward  Five  Forks, 
pushed  into  the  woods,  and  about  sunset  took  ray  stand  in  a  piece 
of  timber,  on  the  side  of  the  road  which — he — was  coming  by." 

There  was  always  a  marked  hesitation  when  he  came  to  the 
name  of  his  victim.     He  went  on  more  rapidly  now. 

"  Well,  he  came  along  about  dusk.  Some  one  followed  him, 
but  I  could  not  make  out  who.  Another  man  came  on  from  the 
direction  of  Petersburg  ;  passed  me  and  him;  and  the  other  who 
liad  followed  him  out  of  the  court-house  turned  into  a  by-road 
and  disappeared.  Then  I  saw  that  the  game  was  in  my  own 
hands.  I  waited,  looking  at  him  as  he  approached  me.  I  swear 
I  did  not  intend  to  harm  him.  I  was  half-drunk,  but  I  remember 
what  I  intended.  He  came  on.  I  rode  toward  him,  demanded 
the  money,  he  refused.  I  threw  myself  on  him,  as  he  struck  at 
me  with  the  butt  of  his  heavy  riding-whip,  then  we  both  rolled 
to  the  ground,  I  under  !  His  clutch  was  on  my  throat,  I  was 
choking.  '  Help,'  he  cried,  and  I  came  near  crying  it,  too!  All 
at  once  my  hand  fell  upon  my  pocket,  I  felt  the  knife,  I  drew  it 
out,  opened  it,  and  stabbed  him  as  he  was  strangling  me  ! 

"  That  was  the  whole !  Do  you  call  it  a  murder  ?  I  rose  up, 
as  he  fell  back.  His  breast  was  all  bloody ;  his  eyes  turned 
round;  he  gasped  something,  and  fell  back  dead." 

The  speaker  paused  and  wiped  his  brow  with  his  huge,  muscular 
hand.  His  face  was  a  strange  spectacle.  The  most  bitter  and 
terrible  emotions  of  the  human  heart  were  written  there  as  with 
a  pen  of  fire. 

"  Then  I  looked  at  him;"  he  went  on,  "I  said  to  myself,  '  this 


THE    TWO    PAPERS.  ^03 

is  a  murder,'  foolishly,  for  he  was  stabbed,  not  murdered;  and 
my  first  thought  was  to  conceal  the  body.  I  dragged  it  to  the 
roadside,  hid  it  in  some  bushes,  and  thinking  I  heard  some  one 
coming,  leaped  on  my  horse,  who  had  stood  by  quietly — his  had 
galloped  away — and  left  the  cursed  spot  as  fast  as  I  could  go. 
The  money  was  left  on  him. "  I  swear  I  did  not  touch  a  penny  of 
it,  and  would  not  have  touched  it,  even  if  I  had  not  been  inter- 
rupted. I  had  not  intended  to  kill  him.  It  was  the  result  of  the 
struggle.  I  took  nothing  of  Ms  away  from  that  place,  but  I  left 
something  of  my  own;  the  knife  with  which  I  had  struck  him!" 
"The  devil  had  put  the  cursed  thing  into  my  hand;  and  now 
the  devil  made  me  drop  it  there,  within  ten  feet  of  the  dead 
body." 


XXXI. 

THE    TWO    PAPERS. 


Daeke  had  spoken  in  a  low,  dull,  gloomy  voice;  and  something 
like  a  shudder  had  passed  through  his  frame  as  he  painted,  in  brief 
words,  the  sombre  scene.  This  emotion  now  seemed  even  to  grow 
deeper.     Was  there  good  left  in  this  wild  animal? 

"That  knife,"  he  continued,  "  was  very  nearly  the  means  of 
hanging  an  innocent  man.  It  belonged  to  a  gentleman  of  the 
neighborhood  who  had  accidentally  laid  it  on  the  table  of  the 
clerk's  office,  a  few  moments  before  I,  as  accidentally,  picked  it  up 
— and  this  gentleman  had  just  had  angry  words  with — him — 
about  a  trifle.  What  made  things  worse  was  that  they  had  long 
been  enemies — and  when  he  was  found  there,  dead  in  the  bushes, 
next  day,  the  owner  of  the  knife  found  near  the  body  was  arrest- 
ed as  the  murderer. 

"  Well,  he  went  to  jail,  and  the  trial  was  coming  on  soon.  The 
evidence  against  him  was  strong.  He  was  the  known  enemy  of 
— Mr.  Conway.  He  had  quarrelled  with  him  on  that  day,  and 
his  knife  was  found  by — the  body — on  which  the  money  had  not 
been  touched.  A  robber,  you  see,  would  have  taken  the  money ; 
as  it  was  untouched  the  crime  must  have  been  committed  by 
13* 


304:  MOHUX. 

a  personal  enemy.  TTho  was  that  enemy  ?  The  prisoner — whose 
name  was  Davenant ! 

"  TVell,  the  trial  was  near,  I  had  gone  back  to  the  court-house 
on  that  day,  and  was  still  lianging  around  the  place.  What  was 
I  to  do?  I  had  to  determine  whether  I  would  let  an  innocent 
man  be  hanged  for  my  crime,  or  go  to  the  sheriff  and  say,  '  re- 
lease the  prisoner — I  am  the  murderer.'  That  was  rather  more 
than  I  was  ready  for,  and  I  hit  on  a  means  which  might  serve. 
Tlie  knife  was  important  evidence — the  most  important — and  I 
was  in  the  clerk's  office  one  day,  hanging  round  and  listening, 
when  I  saw  the  sheriff  put  the  knife  in  a  drawer,  to  have  it 
ready  near  court  on  the  day  of  trial.  Well,  that  night  I  broke 
into  the  court-house — stole  the  knife — and  waited  to  see  what 
would  occur  on  the  trial. 

''As  the  day  drew  near  I  felt  like  a  real  murderer,  and  had 
the  prisoner  all  the  time  before  my  eyes,  hanging  on  a  gal- 
lows. I  drank  harder  than  ever,  but  I  could  not  get  tliat  pic- 
ture out  of  my  mind.  I  saw  worse  pictures  than  before.  So  I 
determined  what  to  do.  I  sat  down,  wrote  a  full  confession  of 
the  murder,  which  I  signed ,  and  a  friend  of  mine  carried  this 
to  the  prisoner's  wife.  I  had  put  on  it  '  In  haste,  this  will  save 
Mr,  Davenant's  life ' — and  his  wife  carried  it,  at  full  speed,  with 
her  own  hands  to  the  court-house,  where  she  arrived  just  as  the 
jury  had  retired. 

"  The  prisoner  opened  and  read  it.  When  he  had  finished  it, 
he  folded  it  up  and  put  it  in  his  pocket.  As  he  did  so,  the  jury 
came  in  with  a  verdict  of  '  Not  guilty  ' — and  he  went  out  of  the 
court-room  accompanied  by  a  crowd  of  friends. 

"So  he  was  cleared,  you  see — without  using  the  document 
which  I  had  written.  That  was  in  his  pocket ;  was  of  no  fur- 
ther use ;  and  as  it  might  become  dangerous  I  entered  his  house 
that  night,  broke  open  the  desk  in  which  he  kept  his  private 
papers,  and  took  this  one  out,  reading  and  making  sure  that  it  was 
the  genuine  document,  by  the  light  of  the  moon  which  streamed 
in  at  the  window. 

"I  was  still  looking  at  the  paper,  when  a  noise  behind  me 
attracted  my  attention,  and  turning  round  I  saw — Mr.  Davenant. 
He  had  heard   the  noise   I  made    in  breaking  open   the   secre- 


THE    TWO    PAPERS.  3f)5 

tary  ;  put  on  bis  dressing-gown  ;  and  coming  down,  pistol  in  hand, 
was  on  me  before  I  knew  it.  The  few  minutes  that  followed 
were  rather  angrj,  and  noisy.  Unexpectedly,  Mr.  Davenant  did 
not  fire  on  me.  After  an  interchange  of  compliments,  I  put  the 
paper  in  my  pocket,  passed  out  through  the  window,  and  mount- 
ing my  horse,  rode  away. 

"After  that  I  went  far,  and  saw  many  persons.  Among  the 
rest  you,  madam  ;  and  our  matrimonial  life  has  been  cheq- 
uered ! 

"A  word  to  you,  now,"  he  added,  turning  toward  Swartz.  '•  I 
shut  you  up  here  to  starve  you  to  death  because  you  were  trusted 
and  have  betrayed  me.  Listen,  and  I  will  tell  you  how.  You  are 
greedy  for  gold,  and  this  greed  has  tempted  you  to  an  act  which 
will  be  your  destruction.  In  Pennsylvania,  one  night,  just  before 
the  battle  of  Gettysburg,  you  were  at  my  house,  and  stole  a  paper 
from  madam,  who  was  collecting  every  thing  to  hide  it  from  the 
enemy.  Xo  matter  how  I  know  that;  I  have  made  the  discovery, 
and  you  deny  it — refusing  to  deliver  up  that  paper,  which  yon 
state  you  never  had,  and  consequently  have  not  in  your  posses 
sion.  In  saying  that,  you  lied  I  You  stole  that  paper,  and  promise 
yourself  that  you  will  sell  it  for  a  large  sum  of  money — you  have 
already  been  bargaining,  and  have  tried  to  finish  the  business. 

'•TV ell,  that  paper  is  interesting — to  madam  at  least;  and  she 
has  kept  it  with  care  from  the  eyes  of  the  very  person  you  would 
sell  it  to !  Folded  with  it  was  another  paper  which  is  no  less  val- 
uable to  me.  Thus,  you  see,  that  we  are  interested  ;  and  we  will 
probably  be  informed  in  a  day  from  this  time  where  to  find  bot!; 
the  documents — as  you  will  then  be  starving,  and  will  reveal 
every  thing ! 

"  You  think  me  jesting,  perhaps — you  imagine  I  will  spare  you. 
Undeceive  yourself — your  life  is  a  small  matter  compared  with 
these  two  papers. 

''  One  is  the  certificate  of  madam's  marriage  with  your  very 
humble  servant ;  the  other  the  letter  which  I  took  from  Mr. 
Davenant's  desk  that  night,  in  which  I  confess  myself  the — well  I 
the  murderer — of  George  Conway!" 


306  MOHUN. 


xxxn. 

A  PISTOL-SHOT. 

Dai?ke's  deep  and  gloomy  voice  ceased  to  resound,  and  for  a 
moment  the  silence  of  the  apartment  w;is  only  disturbed  by  the 
slight  creaking  made  by  the  chair  of  the  woman,  as  she  quietly 
rocked  backward  and  forward. 

Swartz  had  risen  to  his  feet  while  Darke  was  uttering  his  final 
words.  With  clasped  hands,  and  trembling  lips,  he  was  about  to 
throw  himself  upon  his  knees; — when  suddenly  a  shot  resounded 
without,  a  cry  was  heard,  and  then  this  was  succeeded  by  rapid 
firing,  mingled  with  hoof-strokes,  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the 
house. 

Darke  rose  to  his  feet,  and  in  two  strides  was  at  the  window. 

"  An  attack !"  he  exclaimed.  "  Can  the  friends  of  this  carrion 
be  trying  to  catch  me!" 

And  springing  toward  the  door,  he  tore  it  open. 

Suddenly,  another  thought  seemed  to  come  to  him.  Returning 
at  a  bound  to  the  side  of  Swartz,  he  seized  him  by  the  throat, 
dragged  him  through  the  door,  and  rushed  down  the  steps,  still 
dragging  the  unfortunate  man. 

As  he  passed  me,  I  drew  my  revolver  and  fired  on  him,  but  the 
ball  did  not  strike  him.  Then  I  saw  the  woman  dart  past  like  a 
shadow.  When  Nighthawk  and  myself  reached  the  foot  of  the 
stairs,  she  and  Darke  were  already  in  the  saddle. 

The  collar  of  Swartz  was  still  in  his  clutch.  He  seemed  deter- 
mined to  bear  him  off  at  the  risk  of  being  himself  captured  ;  for  a 
second  glance  showed  me  that  a  party  of  Confederate  cavalry  was 
rushing  headlong  toward  the  house,  led  by  an  oflicer  whom  I 
made  out  to  be  Mohun. 

Darke  saw  that  the  small  force  on  picket  could  not  contend 
with  the  attacking  party. 

By  the  starlight,  I  could  see  his  face,  as  he  glared  over  his 
shoulder  at  Mohun,  whom  he  had  evident! v  recoixnized.  An  ex- 
pression  of  profound  hate  was  in  that  glance ;   a  hoarse  growl 


PRESTON    HAMPTON.  307 

issued  from  his  lips ;  and  I  distinguished  the  low  words  addressed 
to  Swartz,  whom  he  w\is  dragging  on  beside  his  horse. 

"So,  you  are  rescued,  you  think!  You  have  laid  this  trap  for 
me,  jailbird!" 

He  drew  his  pistol  as  he  spoke,  and  placed  it  close  to  the  un- 
happy man's  temple.  I  had  mine  in  my  hand,  and,  aiming  at 
Darke,  fired. 

It  was  too  late.  The  bullet  did  not  strike  him  ;  and  the  report 
of  his  own  weapon  followed  that  of  mine  like  an  echo. 

Swartz  staggered  back,  threw  up  his  hands,  and  uttering  a  wild 
cry,  fell  at  full  length  upon  the  ground. 

The  scene  which  followed  was  as  brief  as  this  tragedy.  Mohun 
charged,  at  the  head  of  his  men,  and  drove  the  picket  force  before 
him.    In  five  minutes  the  whole  party  were  dispersed,  or  captured. 

Darke  had  escaped  with  the  gray  woman,  in  the  darkness. 

The  pursuit  did  not  continue  far.  The  Federal  lines  were 
near  ;  and  Mohun  soon  recalled  his  men. 

Grasping  me  cordially  by  the  hand,  he  exclaimed : — 

""Well,  Surry!  the  prisoner!     Where  is  Swartz?" 

I  pointed  to  the  spot  where  his  body  lay,  and  went  thither 
with  Mohun. 

Swartz  lay  perfectly  dead,  in  a  pool  of  blood.  Darke  had 
blown  out  his  brains. 


XXXIII. 

PRESTON  HAMPTON. 


An  hour  afterward  the  body  of  the  unfortunate  man  had 
been  buried,  and  I  had  returned  with  Mohun  and  Nighthawk  to 
the  opposite    bank  of  the  Rowanty. 

I  had  never  seen  Mohun  so  gloomy.  He  scarcely  uttered  a 
word  during  the  whole  march  back  ;  and  when  I  announced  my 
intention  to  spend  the  night  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Alibi,  as  the 
long  tramp  had  wearied  me  out,  he  scarcely  invited  me  to  his 


30S  MOHUN. 

head-quarters,  and  when  I  declined,  did  not  urge  me.  Some- 
thing evidently  weighed  heavily  on  the  mind  of  Mohun,  and  a 
few  moment's  reflection  explained  the  whole  to  me. 

He  had  conversed  rapidly  and  apart  witli  Nighthawk  near  the 
lonely  house;  and  his  gloom  had  dated  from  that  conversation. 
Nighthawk  had  evidently  explained  every  thing :  the  cause  of 
Swartz's  imprisonment;  his  statement  in  reference  to  the  paper — 
and. now  that  Swartz  was  dead,  the  hiding-place  of  the  docu- 
ment seemed  forever  undiscoverable. 

If  the  reader  does  not  understand  the  terrible  significance  of 
this  fact,  and  Mohun's  consequent  gloom,  I  promise  that  he  shall 
comprehend  all  before  very  long. 

Mohun  returned  to  his  camp,  and  I  remained  at  the  house  of 
Mr.  Alibi  until  morning,  stretclied  on  a  lounge,  and  wrapped  in 
my  cape. 

I  awoke  about  sunrise.  As  I  opened  my  eyes,  quick  firing 
came  from  the  direction  of  Burgess's  Mill.  The  fire  speedily 
became  more  rapid  and  continuous;  I  hastened  to 'mount  my 
horse ;  and  as  I  did  so,  a  courier  passed  at  full  gallop. 

"  What  news  ?"  I  asked. 

"  The  enemy  are  advancing  in  force  I     They  have  crossed  I'' 

"Where?"      * 

"  Near  Armstrong's !" 

And  the  courier  disappeared,  at  full  speed,  in  the  woods.  In 
a  moment  I  had  abandoned  my  design  of  inspecting,  and  was 
riding  back. 

"  Armstrong's"  was  a  mill  on  the  Kowanty,  near  the  Boydton 
road.  If  the  enemy  had  crossed  there,  in  force,  it  was  to  make  a 
heavy  advance  toward  the  Southside  road. 

I  was  not  mistaken.  Reaching  the  debouchment  of  the  "  Quaker 
road,"  I  found  the  cavalry  drawn  up  in  order  of  battle — a  dispatch 
had  been  seut  to  hurry  up  the  rest — on  the  lower  waters  of  the 
Rowanty,  and  General  Hampton  informed  me  of  the  situation  of 
afi'airs. 

The  enemy  had  advanced  in  heavy  force  at  sunrise,  driven  in 
the  pickets,  and,  crossing  the  Rowanty,  seized  on  the  Boydton 
road  and  the  bridge  at  Burgess's  Mill.  From  prisoners  taken,  it 
was  ascertained  that  the  force  consisted  of  the  Second,  Fifth,  and 


PRESTON    HAMPTON".  309 

part  of  the  Ninth  Corps;  Grant,  Meade,  and  Hancock,  accompan}-- 
ing  the  troops  in  person. 

That  left  nothing  in  doubt.     If  any  remained,  it  was  dispelled 
by  the  fact,  stated  to  me  by  General  Hampton,  that  the  Federal 
troops  "had  eight  days' rations,   and  were  certainly  bound  for' 
the  Southside  road."* 

I  had  scarcely  received  this  intelligence  from  General  Hampton, 
when  a  heavy  attack  was  made  upon  General  William  H.  F.  Lee, 
holding  the  Quaker  road. 

From  that  moment  the  battle  began  to  rage  with  determined 
furv,  and  the  entire  force  of  cavalry  was  engaged  in  an  obstinate 
fight  with  the  advancing  enemy.  It  was  a  bitter  and  savage 
affair.  The  men  charged;  dismounted  and  fought  behind  im- 
promptu breastworks  of  rails ;  fell  back  only  when  they  were 
pushed  by  the  weight  of  the  great  column  rolling  forward  ;  and 
for  hours  the  whole  field  was  a  hurly-burly  of  dust,  smoke,  blood, 
uproar,  carbine  shots,  musket  shots,  and  the  long  threatening 
roar  of  cannon. 

The  Stuart  horse  artillery  fought  like  tigers.  The  men  stuck 
to  their  guns  amid  a  storm  of  bullets,  and  vindicated,  as  they  had 
done  before  on  many  fields,  the  name  of  "  my  pets,"  given  them 
by  Stuart!  Among  the  oflicers,  Will  Daveuant  was  seen,  sitting 
his  horse  amid  the  smoke,  as  calm  as  a  May  morning;  and  I  shall 
never  forget  the  smile  on  the  face  of  this  young  bull -dog,  when 

he  said : — 

"  I  think  we  can  hold  our  ground,  colonel." 

And  looking  over  his  shoulder,  in  the  direction  of  Five  Forks, 
he  murmured : — 

"This  is  a  good  place  to  die,  too." 

A  thundering  cheer  rose  suddenly  above  the  roar  of  the  guns, 
and  the  line  of  dismounted  sharp-shooters  behind  their  rail  breast- 
works opened  a  more  steady  and  resolute  fire  as  the  enemy  ap- 
peared to  pause. 

At  the  same  moment  young  Preston  Hampton,  a  son  of  the 
general,  and  one  of  my  favorites,  from  his  courage  and  courtesy, 
passed  by  at  a  gallop,  cheering  and  encouraging  the  skir- 
mishers. 

*  His  worda. 


310  MOHUN. 

I  spurred  after  Lim.  Just  as  I  reached  him,  I  saw  the  arm 
waving  above  his  head  suddenly  drop ;  his  sword  escaped  from 
his  grasp,  and  he  fell  from  the  saddle  to  the  ground. 

In  an  instant  I  had  dismounted,  and  with  other  officers  who 
■*  hastened  up,  had  raised  him  from  the  earth. 

As  we  did  so,  the  group,  consisting  now  of  no  less  than  seven, 
attracted  the  enemy's  attention  ;  a  hot  fire  was  opened  on  us, 
and  before  we  could  bear  the  dying  youth  in  our  arms  beyond  the 
reach  of  the  fire,  four  out  of  the  seven  officers  were  shot.* 

The  boy  was  placed  in  an  ambulance,  and  borne  to  the  rear  ; 
but  the  wound  was  fatal,  and  he  soon  afterward  expired.  A 
stafi"  officer  afterward  informed  me  that  General  Hampton  did  not 
leave  his  tent  for  a  fortnight — scarcely  replying  when  he  was 
spoken  to,  and  prostrated  by  grief. 

I  could  understand  that.  The  death  of  the  brave  youth  sent  a 
pang  to  my  own  heart — and  he  was  only  my  friend.  The  great 
heart  of  the  father  must  have  been  nearly  broken. 

So  fell  Preston  Hampton.  Peace  to  his  ashes !  No  kinder  or 
braver  spirit  ever  died  for  his  country  I 


XXXIV. 

I    AM    CAPTURED. 

* 

HoTJE  after  honr  the  battle  continued  to  rage ;  the  enemy 
making  resolute  attempts  to  brush  off  the  cavalry. 

It  was  now  discovered  that  Hancock's  corps  had  crossed  the 
Rowanty,  supported  by  Crawford's  division,  with  two  corps  be- 
hind ;  and  as  General  Hancock  held  the  bridge  at  Burgess's,  there 
seemed  little  probability  that  Lee  could  cross  a  force  to  attack 
him. 

But  this  was  done.  While  the  cavalry  fought  the  blue  masses 
with  obstinate  courage  on  the  Boydton  road,  Mahone,  that  daring 
soldier,  crossed  a  column  of  three  brigades  over  the  Rowanty, 
below    Burgess's ;    and  suddenly  the    enemy  found   themselves 

*  Fact 


I  am:  captured.  311 

atacked  in  flank  and  rear.  Mahone  did  not  pause.  He  advanced 
straight  to  the  assault ;  swept  every  thing  before  him,  and  thrust- 
ing his  small  force  in  between  Hancock  and  Crawford,  tore  from 
the  former  four  hundred  prisoners,  three  battle-flags,  and  six 
pieces  of  artillery. 

The  assault  had  been  sudden  and  almost  overwhelming.  TVTiile 
hotly  engaged  with  Hampton  in  front,  the  enemy  had  all  at  once 
staggered  beneath  the  heavy  blow  dealt  on  their  flank  and  rear. 
They  turned  to  strike  at  this  new  foe ;  and  the  shock  which  fol- 
lowed was  rude,  the  onset  bloody. 

Mahone  met  it  with  that  dash  and  stubbornness  now  proverbial 
in  the  army ;  and,  hurling  his  three  brigades  against  the  advancing 
column,  broke  through  three  lines  of  battle,  and  drove  them 
back.* 

Kight  was  near,  and  the  fighting  still  continued.  The  enemy 
seemed  loth  to  give  up  the  ground ;  and  were  holding  their  posi- 
tion obstinately,  when  a  determined  charge  from  a  brigade  of 
Mahone's  drove  every  thing  in  its  front. 

I  had  been  to  carry  a  message  for  General  Hampton,  upon 
whose  staff  I  served  during  the  battle,  and  now  found  myself 
swept  forward  by  the  brigade  charging. 

In  front  of  them,  I  recognized  General  Davenant,  on  horseback, 
and  sword  in  hand,  leading  the  charge.  His  son  Charley  was  be- 
side him. 

'•We  are  driving  them,  colonel!"  exclaimed  the  general,  with 
a  proud  smile  "  and  look !  yonder  are  some  of  their  general 
ofiicers  flying  from  that  house !  " 

As  he  spoke,  he  pointed  to  three  horsemen,  riding  at  full  speed 
from  a  house  known  as  Burgess's ;  their  splendid  suit  of  staft 
oflBcers  indicated  that  they  were  of  high  rank. 

In  fact,  the  three  horsemen  who  retired  thus  hastily,  would  have 
proved  a  rich  prize  to  us.     They  were  Generals  Grant,  Meade  and 

Hancock.t 

They  made  a  narrow  escape,  and  the  question  suggests  itself, 
"  What  would  have  been  the  result  of  their  capture  ?"     I  know 

*"In  the  attack  subsequently  made  by  the  enemy,  General  Mahone  broke  three 
lines  of  battle.  ""—General  Lee's  Dispatch  of  October  23, 1S64. 

t  Fact. 


312  MOHUN. 

not;  I  only  know  tliat  Grant,  Meade  and  Hancock,  came  near 
having  an  interview  with  General  Lee  that  night — a  peaceful  and 
friendly  talk  at  his  head-quarters. 

I  did  not  think  of  all  this  then.  The  hot  charge  dragged  me. 
I  had  come  to  participate  in  it  by  the  mere  chance  of  battle — 
but  this  apparent  accident  was  destined  to  have  very  singular 
results. 

I  had  ridden  with  General  Davenant,  as  his  brigade  swept  for- 
ward, and  we  were  breasting  a  heavy  fire  on  his  front,  when  a 
sudden  cry  of   "  Cavalry  !   look  out !"  came  from  our  left. 

General  Davenant  wheeled  his  horse  ;  went  at  full  speed,  ac- 
companied b}'  his  son  and  myself,  through  the  bullets,  in  the  di- 
rection indicated  ;  and  carried  onward  by  his  animal,  as  I  was  by 
my  own,  rode  right  into  a  column  of  blue  cavalry,  advancing  to 
attack  our  flank. 

Such  was  the  "chance  of  battle  I"  At  one  moment  General 
Davenant  was  in  command  of  a  brigade  which  was  driving  the 
enemy,  and  sweeping  every  thing  before  it.  At  the  next  moment 
he  had  been  carried  by  the  powerful  animal  which  he  bestrode 
straight  into  the  ranks  of  the  Federal  cavalry,  hidden  by  the  woods 
and  approaching  darkness — had  been  surrounded  in  an  instant, 
fired  upon,  and  half  dragged  from  his  saddle,  and  captured,  together 
with  his  son  Charley. 

"What  was  still  more  unfortunate  to  me,  personally,  was  the 
fact  that  having  followed  the  old  soldier,  I  was  surrounded,  and 
made  a  prisoner  in  the  same  manner. 


XXXV. 

FACE  TO  FACE. 


"We  had  scarcelv  time  to  realize  the  trulv  disgusting  fact,  that 
we  were  captured  at  the  very  instant  that  the  enemy  were  being 
driven,  when  the  charge  of  the  Federal  cavalry  was  met  by  a  hail- 
storm of  bullets  which  drove  them  back  in  disorder. 


FACE    TO    FACE.  313 

For  some  moments  the  woods  presented  a  singular  spectacle. 
Horsemen  flying  in  wild  confusion  ;  riderless  animals  darting 
madly  toward  the  rear ;  the  groans  of  wounded  men  tottering  in 
the  saddle  as  they  rushed  by — all  this  made  up  a  wild  scene  of 
excitement,  and  confusion  worse  confounded. 

General  Davenant,  his  son,  and  myself  had  been  ordered  to  the 
rear,  under  escort ;  and  the  old  cavalier  had  turned  his  horse's 
head  in  tliat  direction,  boiling  with  rage  at  his  capture,  when  the 
repulse  ensued,  and  the  Federal  cavalry  streamed  by  us  toward 
the  rear. 

All  at  once  a  loud  voice  was  heard  shouting  in  the  half  dark- 
ness : — 

"Halt!  halt  I  you  cursed  cowards  !    Halt!  and  form  column!" 

The  speaker  rushed  toward  us  as  he  spoke,  mounted  upon  a 
huge  black  horse,  and  I  heard  the  noise  made  by  his  sabre,  as 
with  the  flat  of  it,  he  struck  blows  upon  the  brawny  shoulders 
of  the  fugitives. 

At  his  summons,  and  the  blows  of  his  sabre,  the  men  halted, 
and  again  fell  into  column. 

Under  the  shadowy  boughs  of  the  woods,  and  in  the  gathering 
darkness,  the  long  line  of  horsemen  resembled  phantoms  rather 
than  men.  iSTear  them  glimmered  some  bivouac  fires ;  and  the 
flickering  light  illumined  their  persons,  gleamed  on  their  scab- 
bards, and  lit  up  the  rough  bearded  faces. 

"  Cowardly  scoundrels!"  exclaimed  their  leader,  in  fierce  ac- 
cents, "  where  are  the  prisoners  that  ran  into  us?" 

"Here,  colonel.     One  is  a  general!"  said  a  man. 

"Let  me  see  them!" 

General  Davenant  struck  the  spur  violently  into  his  horse,  and 
rode  close  to  the  Federal  officer,-  in  whom  I  had  recognized  Col- 
onel Darke. 

" Here  I  am,  wretch ! — look  at  me!"  exclaimed  General  Dave- 
nant, foaming  with  rage.  "Accursed  be  the  day  when  I  begat 
a  murderer  and  a  renegade!" 


3U  MOHUN". 

XXXVI. 

THE  CURSE. 

Daeke's  hand  unconsciously  drew  the  rein,  and  man  and  horse 
both  seemed  to  stagger  back  before  the  furious  old  soldier. 

"  General DavenantI"  muttered  Darke,  turning  pale. 

"  Yes,  General  Davenant! — a  gentleman,  an  honest  man  ;  not  a 
traitor  and  a  murderer  I" 

"Good  God!"  muttered  Darke,  ''it  is  my  father,  truly — and 
ray  little  brother!  The  proud  face,  the  eyes,  the  mouth — and 
yet  they  told  me  you  were  killed." 

"Ah!  'Killed  I'  Killing  is  a  favorite  topic  with  you!"  ex- 
claimed General  Davenant,  furiously ;  "  well,  kill  me^  now  ! — Strike 
your  dastardly  sword,  or  your  Tcnife  if  you  have  one,  straight  into 
my  breast !  Murder  me,  I  say,  as  you  murdered  George  Conway  1 
— I  have  a  purse  in  my  pocket,  and  you  can  rob  me  when  I  am 
dead.  Strike!  strike! — but  not  with  the  sword!  That  is  the 
weapon  of  a  gentleman.  Draw  your  knife,  and  stab  me  in  the 
back — the  knife  is  the  weapon  of  the  assassin  !" 

And  crossing  his  arms  upon  his  breast,  the  fiery  old  cavalier 
confronted  his  son,  with  eyes  full  of  bitter  wrath  and  disdain — 
eyes  which  I  shall  never  forget ;  for  their  fire  burnt  them  into 
my  memory. 

Darke  did  not  dare  to  meet  them.  I  had  listened  with  amaze- 
ment to  those  words,  which  indicated  that  the  Federal  officer  was 
General  Davenant's  son ;  then  this  sentiment  of  astonishment, 
profound  as  it  was,  had  yielded  to  one  of  expectation,  if  I  may  so 
express  myself.  What  I  expected  was  a  furious  outbreak  from 
the  man  of  fierce  and  violent  passions,  thus  taunted  and  driven  to 
bay  by  the  repeated  insults  of  the  general.  No  outburst  came, 
however.  On  the  contrary,  the  Fedeial  officer  bowed  his  head, 
and  listened  in  silence,  while  a  mortal  pallor  difi'used  itself  over 
his  swarthy  face. 

His  gaze  was  bent  upon  the  grouhd,  and  his  brows  so  closely  knit 
that  they  extended  in  an  unbroken  ridge  of  black  and  shaggy  hair 
above  his  bloodshot  eyes.     He  sat  his  horse,  in  the  light  of  the 


THE    CUKSE.  315 

camp-fire, — a  huge  cavalier  npon  an  animal  as  powerful  and  for- 
bidding in  appearance  as  himself, — and  for  more  than  a  minute 
after  the  scornful  outburst  from  General  Davenant,  Darke  re- 
mained silent  and  motionless,  with  his  eyes  still  fixed  upon  the 
ground. 

Then  he  raised  his  head,  made  a  sign  with  his  hand  to  an  officer, 
and  said,  briefly : — 

"  Move  back  with  the  column — leave  these  prisoners  here." 

At  the  word,  the  column  moved  back  slowlj;  the  shadowy- 
figures  were  lost  sight  of  in  the  darkness ;  General  Davenant,  his 
son  Charles,  Darke,  and  myself,  were  left  alone  beside  the  camp- 
fire. 

Then  the  Federal  officer,  with  a  face  over  which  seemed  to  pass 
"the  shadow  of  unutterable  things,"  looked  first  with  a  long, 
wistful,  absorbed  glance  toward  the  boy  Charles,  his  brother — 
lastlv,  toward  his  father. 

*'  Why  do  you  taunt  me  ?"  he  said,  in  a  low  tone.  "  Will  that 
result  in  any  good  now?  Yes.  I  committed  murder.  I  intended, 
if  I  did  not  commit,  robbery.  I  killed — yes,  I  killed  ! — with  a 
knife — as  a  murderer  kills.  But  I  do  not  wish  to  kill  you — or 
Charley — or  this  officer — or  rob  you.  Keep  your  life  and  your 
money.    There  is  the  road  before  you,  open.    Go ;  you  are  free  !" 

General  Davenant  had  sat  his  horse — the  boy  Charley  beside 
him — listening  in  sullen  wrath.  As  Darke  ended,  the  general's 
hand  went  to  the  hilt  of  his  sword,  and  he  half  drew  it,  by  an 
instinctive  movement,  from  the  scabbard. 

''"VTeli!"  added  the  Federal  officer,  in  the  same  low  tone,  with 
a  deeper  flush  in  his  cheeks,  "draw  your  sword,  sir — strike 
me  if  you  think  proper.  For  myself,  I  am  done  with  murder, 
and  shrink  from  it,  so  that,  if  my  father  wishes  to  kill  me,  I 
will  open  my  breast,  to  give  him  a  fair  opportunity.  You  see  I 
am  not  altogether  the  murderous  wretch  you  take  me  for.  I  am 
a  murderer,  it  is  true,  and  soiled  with  every  vice — you  see  I  am 
frank — but  I  will  not  resist,  if  you  plunge  your  sword  into  my 
heart.  Strike !  strike !  While  I  am  dying  I  will  have  time  to  say 
the  few  words  I  have  to  say  to  you!" 

General  Davenant  shuddered  with  wrath  still,  but  a  strange 
emotion  was  mingled  with  the  sentiment  now — an  emotion  which 


316  MOHTTN. 

I  could  not  fathom.  Before  he  could  open  his  lips,  however, 
Darke  resumed,  in  the  same  tone : — 

"  Yon  hesitate — you  are  not  ready  to  become  my  executioner. 
Well,  listen,  and  I  will  utter  that  which  may  deprive  you  of  all 
self-control.  Yes,  once  more,  I  killed  a  man,  and  killed  him  for 
money  ;  but  you  made  me  what  1  was!  You  petted,  and  spoiled, 
and  made  me  selfish.  In  addition,  you  hated — that  man.  Yon  had 
hated  him  for  twenty  years.  When  I  grew  up,  I  found  out  that. 
If  vou  did  not  strike  him,  vou  had  the  desire  to  do  so — and,  like 
a  good  son,  I  shared  my  'father's  loves  and  hatreds.'  I  heard  you 
speak  of — hira — harshly ;  knew  that  an  old  grudge  was  between 
you;  what  matter  if  I  met  this  enemy  of  the  family  on  the  high- 
road, and,  with  the  dagger  at  his  throat,  said:  'Yield  me  a  por- 
tion of  your  ill-gotten  gains  !'  for  that  money  was  the  proceeds  of 
a  forced  sale  for  cash,  bv  which  the  father  of  a  familv  was  turned 
out  of  house  and  home !  Well,  I  did  that — and  did  it  under  the 
effect  of  drink.  I  learned  the  habit  at  your  table  ;  wine  was 
placed  in  my  hands,  in  my  very  childhood,  by  you  ;  you  indulged 
all  my  vile  selfishness;  made  me  a  miserable,  arrogant  wretch; 
I  came  to  hang  about  the  village  tavern,  and  gamble,  and  fuddle 
mvself,  until  I  was  made  worthless!  Then,  when  one  dav  the 
devil  tempted  me,  I  committed  a  crime — and  that  crime  was 
committed  by  you!  for  you  cultivated  in  me  the  vile  habits 
which  led  me  on  to  murder!" 

Darke's  eyes  were  gloomy,  and  full  of  a  strange  fire.  As  he  uttered 
the  last  words,  he  spurred  close  to  his  father,  tore  open  his  uni- 
form until  his  bare  breast  was  visible,  and  added  in  accents  full 
of  vehement  and  sullen  passion  : — 

"  Strike  me !  Bury  your  sword's  point  in  ray  heart !  I  am 
your  son.  You  are  as  noble  a  gentleman  as  Brutus  was  1  Kill  me, 
then!     I  am  a  murderer:  but  I  am  a  Davenant,  and  no  coward!" 

From  the  fierce  and  swollen  face,  in  which  the'  dark  eyes 
burned  like  firebrands,  my  glance  passed  to  the  countenance  of 
General  Davenant.  A  startling  change  had  taken  place  in  the 
expression  of  the  old  cavalier.  He  was  no  longer  erect,  fiery, 
defiant.  His  glance  no  longer  darted  scorn  and  anger.  His  ch^n 
had  fallen  upon  his  breast ;  Kis  frame  drooped;  his  cheeks,  but 
now  so  flushed,  were  covered  with  a  deep  pallor. 


THE    CURSE.  317 

For  a  moment  he  remained  silent.  The  hand  which  had 
clutched  at  the  sword  hilt  hung  listless  at  his  side.  All  at  once 
his  breast  heaved,  and  with  a  sound  which  resembled  a  groan,  he 
said,  in  low  tones  : — 

*'  I  am  punished !  Yes,  my  hatred  has  brought  forth  fruit,  and 
the  fruit  is  bitter!  It  was  I  who  warped  this  life,  and  the  tree 
has  grown  as  I  inclined  it." 

"Yes,"  said  Darke,  in  his  deep  voice,  "first  warped — then, 
when  cut  down,  cast  off  and  forgotten  !" 

General  Davenant  looked  at  the  speaker  with  bitter  melancholy. 

"  Ah !  you  charge  me  with  that,  do  yon,  sir?"  he  said,  "  You  do 
not  remember,  then,  that  I  have  suffered  for  you — you  do  not 
know,  perhaps,  that  for  ten  years  I  have  labored  under  the  im- 
putation of  that  crime,  and  have  preserved  silence  that  I  might 
shield  your  memory — for  I  thought  you  dead  !    You  do  not  know 
that  I  never  breathed  a  syllable  of  that  letter  which  you  sent  to 
me  on  the  day  of  my  trial — that  I  have  allowed  the  world  to 
believe   I    was   saved  by  a   legal  technicality !     You  have   not 
heard,  perhaps,  that  a  daughter  of  Judge  Conway  is  beloved  by 
your  brother,  and  that  her  father  rejects  with  scorn  the  very  idea 
of  forming  an  alliance  with  my  son — the  son  of  one  whom  he  re- 
gards as  the  murderer  of  his  brother !    Oh  I  yes,  sir !  truly  I  have 
cast  off  and  forgotten  you  and  your  memory !     I  have  not  wept 
tears  of  blood  over  the  crime  you  committed — over  the  dishonor 
that  rested  on  the  name  of  Davenant !     I  have  not  writhed  be- 
neath the  cold  and  scornful  eye  of  Judge  Conway  and  his  friends ! 
I  have  not  seen  your  brother's  heart  breaking  for  love  of  that  girl ; 
and  suppressed  all,  concealed  every  thing,  borne  the  brand  on  my 
proud  forehead,  and  lih  young  life,  that  your  tombstone  miglit 
at  least  not  have  '  murderer '  cut  on  it !     And  now  you  taunt 
me  with  my  faults ! — with  my  injudicious  course  toward  you  when 
your  character  was  forming.    You  sneer  and  say  that  /first  hated 
George  Conway,  and  that  the  son  only  inherited  the  family  feud, 
and  struck  the  enemy  of  the  family!     Yes,  I  acknowledge  those 
sins;  I  pray  daily  to  be  forgiven  for  them.    I  have  borne  for  ten 
years  this  bitter  load  of  dishonor.      But  there  is  something  more 
maddening  even  than  my  faults,  and  the  stain  on  my  name — it  is 
to.be  taunted  to  my  face,  here,  with  the  charge  that  /struck  that 


318  MOHUN. 

blow!  that  /made  you  the  criminal,  and  then  threw  you  off,  and 
drove  vou  to  become  a  renegade  iu  the  ranks  of  our  enemies!" 

The  last  words  of  the  speaker  were  nearly  drowned  in  a  heavy 
fusillade  which  issued  from  the  woods  close  by. 

"Listen!"  exclaimed  General  Davenant,  "that  is  the  fire  of 
your  hirelings,  sir,  directed  at  the  hearts  of  your  brethren !  You 
are  leading  that  scum  against  the  gentlemen  of  Virginia!  "Well 
join  them !  Point  w<?,  and  my  son,  and  companion  out  to  them ! 
Tear  us  to  pieces  with  your  bullets!  Trample  us  beneath  your 
hireling  heels !  That  will  not  prevent  me  from  branding  you 
again  in  your  dishonored  forehead ! — from  cursing  you  as  renegade, 
debauchee,  and  murderer!" 

The  whistle  of  bullets  mingled  with  these  furious  and  resound- 
ing words;  and  then  the  crackle  of  footsteps  was  heard,  the  un- 
dergrowth suddenly  swarmed  with  figures — a  party  of  Con- 
federates rushed  shouting  into  the  little  glade. 

Darke  wheeled  not  from,  but  toward  them,  as  though  to  charge 
them.  The  stern  courage  of  the  Davenant  blood  burned  in  his 
cheeks  and  eyes.  Then,  with  a  harsh  and  bitter  laugh,  he  turned 
and  pushed  his  horse  close  up  beside  that  of  his  father. 

"I  would  call  this  meeting  and  parting  strange,  if  any  thing 
were  strange  in  this  world!"  he  said,  "but  nothing  astonishes 
me,  or  moves  me,  as  of  old !  The  devil  has  brought  it  about !  he 
put  a  knife  in  my  hands  once !  to-night  he  brings  me  face  to  face 
with  you  and  my  boy-brother — and  makes  you  curse  and  renounce 
me!  Well,  so  be  it!  have  your  will!  Henceforth  I  am  really 
lost — my  father  !" 

And  drawing  his  pistol,  he  coolly  discharged  barrel  after  barrel 
in  the  faces  of  the  men  rushing  upon  him ;  wheeled  his  horse,  and 
dug  the  spurs  into  him ;  an  instant  afterward,  with  his  sneering 
face  turned  over  his  shoulder,  he  had  disappeared  in  the  woods. 

Two  hours  afterward  I  was  on  my  way  to  Petersburg. 

The  enemy  were  already  falling  back  from  their  adventurous 
attempt  to  seize  the  Southside  road. 

In  the  morning  they  had  retired  across  the  Rowanty,  and  disap- 
peared. 

So  ended  that  heavy  blow  at  Lee's  great  war-artery. 


RICHMOND    BY    THE    THROAT.  319 


BOOK    IV. 

THE      PHANTOMS. 
I 

RICHMOND    BY    THE    THROAT. 

I  WAS  again  back  at  the  "  Cedars,"  after  the  rapid  and  shifting 
scenes  which  I  have  endeavored  to  place  before  the  reader. 

The  tragic  incidents  befalling  the  actors  in  this  drama,  had 
most  absorbed  my  attention;  but  sitting  now  in  my  tent,  with 
the  newspapers  before  me,  I  looked  at  the  fight  in  which  I  had 
participated,  from  the  general  and  historic  point  of  view. 

That  heavy  advance  on  the  Boydton  road,  beyond  Lee's  right, 
had  been  simultaneous  with  a  determined  assault  on  the  Confed- 
erate left,  north  of  James  River,  and  on  Lee's  centre  opposite 
Petersburg ;  and  now  the  extracts  from  Northern  journals  clearly 
indicated  that  the  movement  was  meant  to  be  decisive. 

"I  have  Richmond  by  the  throat !"  General  Grant  had  tele- 
graphed ;  but  there  was  good  ground  to  believe  that  the  heavy 
attack,  and  the  eloquent  dispatch,  were  both  meant  to  "  make  cap- 
ital" for  the  approaching  Presidential  election. 

These  memoirs,  my  dear  reader,  are  written  chiefly  to  record 
some  incidents  which  I  witnessed  during  the  war.  I  have  neither 
time  nor  space  for  political  comments.  But  I  laid  my  hand 
yesterday,  by  accident,  on  an  old  number  of  the  Examiner  news- 
paper; and  it  chanced  to  contain  an  editorial  on  the  fight  just 
described,  with  some  penetrating  views  on  the  "situation"  at 
that  time. 

14 


320  MOHDN. 

Shall  I  quote  a  paragraph  from  the  yellow  old  paper?  It  will 
he  bitter — we  were  all  bitter  in  those  days !  though  to-day  we 
are  so  fraternal  and  harmonious.  With  his  trenchant  pen,  Daniel 
pierced  to  the  core  of  the  matter ;  and  the  paper  may  give  some 
idea  of  the  spirit  of  the  times. 

I  could  fancy  the  great  satirist  sitting  in  his  lonely  study,  and 
penning  the  lines  I  shall  quote,  not  without  grim  smiles  at  his 
own  mordant  humor. 

Here  is  the  slip  I  cut  out.  The  old  familiar  heading  may  re- 
call those  time's  to  some  readers,  as  clearly  as  the  biting  sentences, 
once  read,  perhaps,  by  the  camp-fire. 

DAILY     EXAMINEIl. 

MONDAY  MORXIXG OCT.  31,  1864. 

"  Every  day  must  now  bring  its  brilliant  bulletin  to  the  Yankee 
nation.  That  nation  does  not  regard  the  punctual  rising  of  the 
sun  as  more  lawfully  due  to  it  than  a  victory  every  morning. 
And  those  glorious  achievements  of  Sheridan  in  the  Yalley  were 
grown  cold  and  stale,  and  even  plainly  hollow  and  rotten — inso- 
much that  after  t6tally  annihilating  the  army  of  Eaelt  at  least 
three  times,  and  so  clearing  the  way  to  Lynchburg,  instead  of 
marching  up  to  Lynchburg  the  heroick  victor  goes  whirling  down 
to  Winchester.  Then  the  superb  victory  obtained  on  Sunday  of 
last  week  over  Peice  in  Missouri,  has  taken  a  certain  bogus  tint, 
which  causes  many  to  believe  that  there  was,  in  fact,  no  victory 
and  no  battle.  This  would  not  do.  Something  fresh  must  be 
had ;  something  electrifying ;  above  all,  something  that  would 
set  the  people  to  cheering  and  firing  off  salutes  about  the  very 
day  of  the  election ; — something,  too,  that  could  not  be  plainly 
contradicted  by  the  events  till  after  that  critical  day — then  let 
the  contradiction  come  and  welcome :  your  true  Yankee  will  only 
laush. 

"From  this  necessity  came  the  great  ' reconnoissance  in  force' 
of  last  Thursday  on  our  lines  before  Richmond  and  Petersburg  ;  a 
'reconnoissance'  in  very  heavy  force   indeed  upon  three  points 


RICHMOND    BY    THE    THROAT.  321 

of  our  front  at  once  l>otli  north  and  south  of  the  James  river ;  so 
that  it  may  be  very  properly  considered  as  three  reconnoissances 
in  force  ;  made  with  a  view  of  feeling,  as  it  were,  Lee's  position  ; 
and  the  object  of  the  three  reconnoissances  having  been  fully  at- 
tained— that  is,  Lee  having  been  felt — they  retired.  That  is  the 
way  in  which  the  transactions  of  Thursday  last  are  to  appear  in 
Stanton's  bulletin,  we  may  be  all  quite  sure ;  and  this  represent- 
ation, together  with  the  occupation  of  a  part  of  the  Boydton 
plank-road  (which  road  the  newspapers  can  call  for  a  few  days 
the  Southside  Road)  will  cause  every  city  from  Boston  to  Mil- 
waukee to  fire  oflE"  its  inevitable  hundred  guns.  Thus,  the  Presi- 
dential election  will  be  served,  just  in  the  nick  of  time  ;  for  that 
emergency  it  is  not  the  real  victory  which  is  wanted,  so  much  as 
the  jubilation,  glorification  and  cannon  salutes. 

"  Even  when  the  truth  comes  to  be  fully  known  that  this  was 
the  grand  pre-election  assault  itself:  the  resistless  advance  on 
Richmond  which  was  to  lift  the  Abolitionists  into  power  again 
upon  a  swelling  high-tide  of  glory  unutterable — easily  repulsed 
and  sent  rolling  back  with  a  loss  of  about  six  or  seven  thousand 
men  in  killed,  wounded  and  prisoners  ;  even  when  this  is  known, 
does  the  reader  imagine  that  the  Yankee  nation  will  be  discour- 
aged? Very  far  from  it.  On  the  contrary  it  will  be  easily  made 
to  appear  that  from  these  'reconnoissances  in  force,' an  advan- 
tage has  been  gained,  which  is  to  make  the  next  advance  a  sure 
and  overwhelming  success.  For  the  fact  is,  that  a  day  was  chosen 
for  this  mighty  movement,  when  the  wind  was  southerly,  a  soft 
and  gentle  breeze,  which  wafted  the  odour  of  the  Yankee 
whiskey-rations  to  the  nostrils  of  Confederate  soldiers.  The  Con- 
federates ought  to  have  been  taken  by  surprise  that  morning; 
but  the  moment  they  snuffed  the  tainted  gale,  they  knew  what 
was  to  be  the  morning's  work.  Xot  more  unerring  is  the  instinct 
which  calls  the  vulture  to  the  battle-field  before  a  drop  of  blood 
is  shed;  or  that  which  makes  the  kites  'know  well  the  long 
'stern  swell,  that  bids  the  Romans  close;'  than  the  sure  induc- 
tion of  our  armv  that  the  Yankees  are  comJusr  on,  when  morn  or 
noon  or  dewy  eve  breathes  along  the  .whole  line  a  perfumed 
savour  of  the  ancient  rye.  The  way  in  which  this  discovery 
may   be   improved  is   plain.      It   will   be   felt   and   undei'stood 


322  MOHUN. 

throughout  the  intelligent  North,  that  it  gives  them  at  last  the 
key  to  Richmond.  They  will  say — Those  rebels,  to  leeward  of 
us,  smell  the  rising  valour  of  our  loyal  soldiers:  the  filling  and 
emptying  of  a  hundred  thousand  canteens  perfumes  the  sweet 
South  as  if  it  had  passed  over  a  bed  of  violets,  stealing  and  giving 
odours  : — when  the  wind  is  southerly  it  will  be  said,  rebels  know 
a  hawk  from-  a  handsaw.  Therefore  it  is  but  making  our  next 
grand  assault  on  some  morning  when  they  are  to  windward  of 
U8 — creeping  up,  in  the  lee  of  Lee,  as  if  he  were  a  stag — and 
Eichraond  is  ours." 

That  is  savage,  and  sounds  unfraternal  to-day,  when  peace  and 
good  feeling  reign — when  the  walls  of  the  Virginia  capitol  re- 
echo the  stately  voices  of  the  conscript  fathers  of  the  great  com- 
monwealth and  mother  of  States :  conscript  fathers  bringing 
their  wisdom,  mature  study,  and  experience  to  the  work  of  still 
further  improving  the  work  of  Jefferson,  Mason,  and  Wash- 
ington. 

'•I  have  Richmond  by  the  throat!"  General  Grant  wrote  in 
October,  1864. 

In  February,  1868,  when  these  lines  are  written,  black  hands 
have  got  Virginia  by  the  throat,  and  she  is  suffocating  ;  Cuffee 
grins,  Cuffee  gabbles — the  groans  of  the  "  Old  Mother"  make  him 
laugh. 

Messieurs  of  the  great  Northwest,  she  gave  you  being,  and 
suckled  you !  Are  you  going  to  see  her  strangled  before  your 
very  eyes? 


II. 

NIGHTMARE. 


Ix  truth,  if  not  held  by  the  throat,  as  General  Grant  announced, 
Richmond  and  all  the  South  in  that  autumn  of  1864,  was  stag- 
gering, suffocating,  reehug  to  and  fro  under  the  immense  incubus 
of  all-destroving  war. 

At  that  time  black  was  the  "  only  wear,"  and  widows  and  or- 


N  I G  H  T  M  A  R  E .  323 

phans  were  crying  in  every  house  tliroiiglioiit  tlie  land.  Bread  and 
meat  had  become  no  longer  necessaries,  but  luxuries.  Whole 
families  of  the  old  aristocracy  lived  on  crusts,  and  even  by  charity. 
Respectable  people  in  "Richmond  went  to  the  "  soup-houses."  Men 
once  rich,  were  penniless,  and  borrowed  to  live.  Provisions 
were  incredibly  dear.  Flour  was  hundreds  of  dollars  a  barrel ; 
bacon  ten  dollars  a  pound  ;  coffee  and  tea  had  become  unknown 
almost.  Boots  were  seven  hundred  dollars  a  pair.  The  poor 
skinned  the  dead  horses  on  battle-fields  to  make  shoes.  Horses 
cost  five  thousand  dollars.  Cloth  was  two  hundred  dollars  a 
yard.  Sorghum  had  taken  the  place  of  sugar.  Salt  was  sold  by 
the  ounce.  Quinine  was  one  dollar  a  grain.  Paper  to  write  upon 
was  torn  from  old  blank  books.  The  ten  or  twenty  dollars  which 
the  soldiers  received  for  their  monthly  pay,  was  about  sufficient 
to  buy  a  sheet,  a  pen,  and  a  little  ink  to  write  home  to  their  starv- 
ing families  that  tliey  too  were  starving. 

In  town  and  country  the  atmosphere  seemed  charged  with 
coming  ruin.  All  things  were  in  confusion.  Everywhere  some- 
thing jarred.  The  executive  was  unpopular.  The  heads  of  de- 
partments were  inefficient.  The  army  was  unfed.  The  finances 
were  mismanaged.  In  Congress  the  opposition  bitterly  criticised 
President  Davis.  The  press  resounded  with  fierce  diatribes,  pro 
and  con^  on  all  subjects.  The  Examiner  attacked  the  govern- 
ment, and  denounced  the  whole  administration  of  affairs.  The 
Sentinel  replied  to  the  attacks,  and  defended  the  assailed  offi- 
cials. One  could  see  nothing  that  was  good.  The  other  could  see 
nothing  that  was  bad.  Their  readers  adopted  their  opinions ; 
looking  through  glasses  that  were  deep  green,  or  else  couleur  de 
rose.  But  the  green  glasses  outnumbered  the  rose-colored  raore 
and  more  every  day. 

Thus,  in  the  streets  of  the  city,  and  in  the  shades  of  the  coun- 
try, all  was  turmoil,  confusion — a  hopeless  brooding  on  the  hours 
that  were  coming.  "War  was  no  longer  an  affair  of  the  border 
and  outpost.  Federal  cavalry  scoured  the  woods,  tearing  tlie 
last  mouthful  from  the  poor  people.  Federal  cannon  were  thun- 
dering in  front  of  the  ramparts  of  the  cities.  In  tlie  country,  the 
faint-hearted  gathered  at  the  court-houses  and  cross-roads  to  com- 
ment on  the  times,  and  groan.     In  the  cities,  cowards  croaked  ia 


32tt  MOnUN. 

the  market-places.  In  the  country,  men  were  hiding  tlieir  meat 
in  garrets  and  cellars — concealing  their  corn  in  pens,  lost  in  the 
depths  of  the  woods.  In  the  towns,  the  forestallers  hoarded  flour, 
and  sugar,  and  salt  in  their  warehouses,  to  await  famine  prices. 
The  vultures  of  troubled  times  flapped  their  wings  and  croaked 
iovfullv.  Extortioners  rolled  in  tlieir  chariots.  Hucksters 
laugiied  as  they  counted  their  gains.  Blockade-runners  drank 
their  champagne,  jingled  their  coin,  and  dodged  the  conscript 
ofticers. 

The  rich  were  very  rich  and  insolent.  Tlie  poor  were  want- 
stricken  and  despairing.  Fathers  gazed  at  their  childrens'  pale 
faces,  and  knew  not  where  to  find  food  for  tliem.  Mothers 
hugged  their  frail  infants  to  bosoms  drained  by  famine.  Want 
gnawed  at  the  vitals.  Despair  had  come,  like  a  black  and  poison- 
ous mist,  to  strangle  the  heart. 

The  soldiers  were  agonized  by  maddening  letters  from  their 
families.  Tlieir  fainting  loved  ones  called  for  help.  ''Father  I 
come  home!"  moaned  the  children,  with  gaunt  faces,  crying  for 
bread.  "Husband,  come  home  I"  murmured  the  pale  wife,  with 
her  half-dead  infant  in  her  arms.  And  the  mothers — the  mothers 
— ah!  the  mothers  I  They  did  not  say,  "Come  home  I"  to  their 
brave  boys  in  the  army ;  they  were  too  proud  for  that — too  faith- 
ful to  the  end.  They  did  not  summon  them  to  come  home ;  they 
only  knelt  down  and  prayed  :  "  God,  end  this  cruel  war  !  Only 
give  me  back  my  boy !  Do  not  bereave  me  of  ray  child  !  The 
cause  is  lost — his  blood  not  needed!  God,  pity  me  and  give  me 
back  mv  bov !" 

So  that  strange  autumn  of  that  strange  year,  1864,  wore  on. 
The  country  was  oppressed  as  by  some  hideous  nightmare  ;  and 
Government  was  silent. 

The  army  alone,  kept  heart  of  hope — Lee's  old  soldiers  defied 
the  enemy  to  the  last. 


LEE'S    MISERABLES.  325 

III. 

LEE'S  MISERABLES. 

They  called  themselves  "Lee's  Miserables." 

That  was  a  grim  piece  of  liuraor,  was  it  not,  reader?  And  the 
name  had  had  a  somewhat  curious  origin.  Victor  Hugo's  work,  Les 
Miserables^  had  been  translated  and  published  by  a  house  in  Rich- 
mond ;  the  soldiers,  in  the  great  dearth  of  reading  matter,  had 
seized  upon  it ;  and  thus,  by  a  strange  chance  the  tragic  story  of 
the  great  French  writer,  had  become  known  to  the  soldiers  in  the 
trenches.  Everywhere,  you  might  see  the  gaunt  figures  in  their 
tattered  jackets  bending  over  the  dingy  pamphlets— "Fantine," 
"Cosette,"  or  "Marius,"  or  "St.  Denis,"  — and  the  woes  of 
"  Jean  Valjean,"  the  old  galley-slave,  found  an  echo  in  the 
hearts  of  these  brave  soldiers,  immured  in  the  trenches  and  fet- 
tered by  duty  to  their  muskets  or  their  cannon. 

Singular  fortune  of  a  writer  I  Happy  M.  Hugo !  Your  fancies 
crossed  the  ocean,  and,  transmitted  into  a  new  tongue,  whiled 
away  the  dreary  hours  of  the  old  soldiers  of  Lee,  at  Petersburg  ! 

Thus,  that  history  of  "The  Wretched,"  was  the  pabulum  of  the 
Soutli  in  1864 ;  and  as  the  French  title  had  been  retained  on  the 
backs  of  the  pamphlets,  the  soldiers,  little  familiar  with  the  Gallic 
pronunciation,  called  the  book  "  Lees  Miserables !"  Then  another 
step  was  taken.  It  was  no  longer  the  book,  but  themselves  whom 
they  referred  to  by  that  name.  The  old  veterans  of  the  army 
thenceforth  laughed  at  their  miseries,  and  dubbed  themselves 
grimly  "Zed'«  Miserables!"* 

The  sobriquet  was  gloomy,  and  there  was  something  tragic  in 
the  employment  of  it;  but  it  was  applicable.  Like  most  popular 
terms,  it  expressed  the  exact  thought  in  the  mind  of  every  one — 
coined  the  situation  into  a  phrase. 

Truly,  they  were  "The  Wretched,"— the  soldiers  of  the  army 
of  Xorthern  Virginia,  in  the  fall  and  winter  of  1864.     They  had  a 

*  It  is  unnecessary  to  say  that  this  is  not  a  jest  or  fancy  on  the  part  of  Colonel 
Surry.    It  is  a  statement  of  fact— Ed. 


326  MOHUy. 

quarter  of  a  pound  of  rancid  "  Nassau  bacon  " — from  New  En- 
gland— for  daily  rations  of  meat.  The  handful  of  flour,  or  corn- 
meal,  which  they  received,  was  musty.  Coffee  and  sugar  were 
doled  out  as  a  luxury,  now  and  then  only ;  and  the  microscopic 
ration  hecarae  a  jest  to  those  who  looked  at  it.  A  little  "  grease  " 
and  cornbread — the  grease  rancid,  and  the  bread  musty — these 
were  the  food  of  the  army. 

Their  clothes,  blankets,  and  shoes  were  no  better — even  worse. 
Only  at  long  intervals  could  the  Government  issue  new  ones  to 
them.  Thus  the  army  was  in  tatters.  The  old  clothes  hung  on 
the  men  like  scarecrows.  Their  gray  jackets  were  in  rags,  and 
did  not  keep  out  the  chilly  wind  sweeping  over  the  frozen  fields. 
Their  old  blankets  were  in  shreds,  and  gave  them  little  warmth 
when  they  wrapped  themselves  up  in  them,  shivering  in  the  long 
cold  nights.  The  old  shoes,  patched  and  yawning,  had  served  in 
many  a  march  and  battle — and  now  allowed  the  naked  sole  to 
touch  the  hard  and  frosty  ground. 

Happy  the  man  with  a  new  blanket !  Proud  the  possessor  of  a 
whole  roundabout!  What  millionaire  or  favorite  child  of  for- 
tune passes  yonder — the  owner  of  an  unpatched  pair  of  shoes  ? 

Such  were  the  rations  and  clothing  of  the  army  at  that  epoch ; 
— rancid  grease,  musty  meal,  tattered  jackets,  and  worn-out  shoes. 
And  these  were  the  fortunate  ones!  Whole  divisions  often  went 
without  bread  even,  for  two  whole  days.  Thousands  had  no  jack- 
ets, no  blankets,  and  no  shoes.  Gaunt  forms,  in  ragged  old  shirts 
and  torn  pantaloons  only,  clutched  the  musket.  At  night  they 
huddled  together  for  warmth  by  the  fire  in  the  trenches.  When 
they  charged,  their  naked  feet  left  blood-marks  on  the  abatis 
through  which  they  went  at  the  enemy. 

That  is  not  an  exaggeration,  reader.     These  facts  are  of  record. 

And  that  was  a  part  only.  It  was  not  only  famine  and  hard- 
ship which  they  underwent,  but  the  incessant  combats — and  mor- 
tal tedium — of  the  trenches.  Ah!  the  trenches!  Those  words 
summed  up  a  whole  volume  of  suffering.  No  longer  fighting  in 
open  field ;  no  longer  winter-quarters,  with  power  to  range ;  no 
longer  freedom,  fresh  air,  healthful  movement — the  trenches! 

Here,  cooped  up  and  hampered  at  every  turn,  they  fought 
through  all  those  long  months  of  the  dark  autumn  and  winter  of 


LEE'S    MISERABLES.  327 

a 

1864.  Thej  were  no  longer  men,  but  machines  loading  and  firing 
the  mnsket  and  the  cannon.  Burrowing  in  their  holes,  and  sub- 
terranean covered-ways,  they  crouched  in  the  darkness,  rose  at 
the  sound  of  coming  battle,  manned  the  breastworks,  or  trained 
the  cannon — day  after  day,  week  after  week,  month  after  month, 
they  were  there  in  the  trenches  at  their  grim  work;  and  some 
fiat  of  Destiny  seemed  to  have  chained  them  there  to  battle  for- 
ever! At  midnight,  as  at  noon,  they  were  at  their  posts.  In  the 
darkness,  dusky  figures  could  be  seen  swinging  the  sponge-stafi^, 
swabbing  the  cannon,  driving  home  the  charge.  In  the  starlight, 
the  moonlight,  or  the  gloom  lit  by  the  red  glare,  those  figures, 
resembling  phantoms,  were  seen  marshalled  behind  the  breast- 
works to  repel  the  coming  assault.  Silence  had  fled  from  the 
trenches — the  crash  of  musketry  and  the  bellow  of  artillery  had 
replaced  it.  Tliat  seemed  never  to  cease.  The  men  were  rocked 
to  sleep  by  it.  They  slept  on  in  the  dark  trenches,  though  the 
mortar-shells  rose,  described  their  flaming  curves,  and,  bursting, 
rained  jagged  fragments  of  iron  upon  them.  And  to  many  that 
was  their  last  sleep.  The  iron  tore  them  in  their  tattered  bhm- 
kets.  They  rose  gasping,  and  streaming  with  blood.  Then  they 
staggered  and  fell ;  when  you  passed  by,  you  saw  a  something 
lying  on  the  ground,  covered  with  the  old  blanket.  It  was  one 
of  "  Lee's  Miserables,"  killed  last  night  by  the  mortars — and  gone 
to  answer,  "  Here  !"  before  the  Master. 

The  trenches  ! — ah  !  the  trenches !  Were  you  in  them,  reader  ? 
Thousands  will  tell  vou  more  of  them  than  I  can.  There,  an  his- 
toric  army  was  guarding  the  capital  of  an  historic  na,tion — the 
great  nation  of  Virginia — and  how  they  guarded  it!  In  hunger, 
and  cold,  and  nakedness,  they  guarded  it  still.  In  the  bright  days 
and  the  dark,  they  stood  at  their  posts  unmoved.  In  the  black 
night-watches  as  by  day — toward  morning,  as  at  evening — they 
stood,  clutching  the  musket,  peering  out  into  the  pitchy  darkness; 
or  lay,  dozing  around  the  grim  cannon,  in  the  embrasures.  Hun- 
ger, and  cold,  and  wounds,  and  the  whispering  voice  of  Despair, 
had  no  eff'ect  on  them.  The  mortal  tedium  left  them  patient. 
When  you  saw  the  gaunt  faces  contract,  and  tears  flow,  it  was  be- 
cause they  had  received  some  letter,  saying  that  their  wives  and  chil- 
dren were  starving.  Many  could  not  endure  that.  It  made  them 
14* 


828  MOHUN. 

forget  all.  Torn  with  anguish,  and  unable  to  obtain  furloughs  for 
a  day  ©ven,  they  went  home  without  leave — and  civilians  called 
them  deserters.  Could  such  men  be  shot — men  who  had  fought 
like  heroes,  and  only  committed  this  breach  of  discipline  that  they 
might  feed  their  starving  children?  And,  after  all,  it  was  not 
desertion  that  chiefly  reduced  Lee's  strength.  It  was  battle 
which  cut  down  the  army — wounds  and  exposure  wliich  thinned 
its  ranks.  But  thin  as  they  were,  and  ever  growing  thinner,  the 
old  veterans  who  remained  by  the  flag  of  such  glorious  memories, 
were  as  defiant  in  this  dark  winter  of  18G4,  as  they  had  been  in 
the  summer  davs  of  1862  and  1863. 

Army  of  Northern  Virginia  I — old  soldiers  of  Lee,  who  fought 
beside  your  captain  until  your  frames  were  wasted,  and  you  were 
truly  his  "wretched"  ones — you  are  greater  to  me  in  your 
wretchedness,  more  siJendid  in  your  rags,  than  the  Old  Guard  of 
Kapoleon,  or  the  three  hundred  of  Thermopylae !  Neither  fam- 
ine, nor  nakedness,  nor  suffering,  could  break  your  spirit.  You 
were  tattered  and  half-starved  ;  your  forms  were  war-worn  ;  but 
you  still  had  faith  in  Lee,. and  the  great  cause  which  you  bore 
aloft  on  the  points  of  your  bayonets.  You  did  not  shrink  in  the 
last  hour — the  hour  of  supreme  trial.  You  meant  to  follow  Lee 
to  tiie  last.  If  vou  ever  doubted  the  result,  vou  had  resolved,  at 
least,  on  one  thing — to  clutch  the  musket,  to  the  end,  and  die  ia 
harness! 

Is  that  extravagance — and  is  this  picture  of  the  great  army  of 
ISTorthern  Virginia  overdrawn  ?  Did  they  or  did  they  not  fight  to 
the  end?  Answer!  Wilderness,  Spottsylvania,  Cold  Harbor, 
Charles  City,  every  spot  around  Petersburg  where  they  closed  in 
death-grapple  with  the  swarming  enemy!  Answer!  winter  of 
'64, — bleak  spring  of  '65, — terrible  days  of  the  great  retreat  wlien 
hunted  down  and  driven  to  bav  like  wild  animals,  thev  fouirht 
from  Five  Forks  to  Appomattox  Court-House — fought  staggering, 
and  starving,  and  falling — but  defiant  to  the  last ! 

Bearded  men  were  seen  crying  on  the  ninth  of  April,  1865. 
But  it  was  surrender  which  wrung  their  hearts,  and  brought  tears 
to  the  grim  faces. 

Grant's  cannon  had  only  made  "Lee's  Miserables  "  cheer  and 
laugh. 


THE    BLANDFORD    RUINS.  329 


IV. 

THE    BLANDFORD    RUIXS. 

These  memories  are  not  cheerful.  Let  us  pass  to  scenes  more 
sunny — and  there  were  many  in  that  depressing  epoch.  The 
cloud  was  dark — but  in  spite  of  General  Grant,  the  sun  icould 
shine  sometimes ! 

After  reading  the  Examiner's  comments,  I  mounted  my  horse 
and  rode  into  Petersburg,  where  I  spent  a  pleasant  hour  in  con- 
versation with  a  friend,  Captain  Max.  Do  you  laugh  still,  my 
dear  Max?  Health  and  happiness  attend  you  and  yours,  my 
hearty ! 

As  I  got  into  the  saddle  again,  the  enemy  began  a  brisk  shell- 
ing. The  shell  skimmed  the  roofs  of  the  houses,  with  an  un- 
earthly scream  ;  and  one  struck  a  chimney  which  it  hurled  down 
with  a  tremendous  crash.  In  spite  of  all,  however,  the  streets 
were  filled  with  young  women,  who  continued  to  walk  quietly, 
or  to  trip  along  laughitlg  and  careless,  to  buy  a  riband  or  some 
trifle  at  the  stores.*  That  seemed  singular  then,  and  seems  more 
singular  to-day.  But  there  is  nothing  like  being  accustomed  to 
any  thing — and  the  shelling  had  now  "lost  its  interest,"  and 
troubled  nobody. 

"  Good  !"  I  said,  laughing,  "our  friends  yonder  are  paying  us 
their  respects  to-day.  They  have  dined  probably  on  the  tons  of 
turkey  sent  from  New  England,  and  are  amusing  themselves 
shelling  us  by  way  of  dessert." 

And  wishing  to  have  a  better  view  of  the  lines,  I  rode  toward 
Blandford. 

Do  you  remember  the  ivy-draped  ruins  of  the  old  "  Blandford 
church,"  my  dear  reader  ?  This  is  one  of  our  Virginia  antiquities, 
and  is  worth  seeing.  Around  the  ruins  the  large  graveyard  is 
full  of  elegant  tombstones.  Many  are  shattered  to-day,  however, 
by  the  Federal  shell,  as  the  spot  was  near  the  breastworks,  and  in 
full  range  of  their  artillery. 

*Eeal. 


330  MOHUN. 

In  fact  it  was  not  a  place  to  visit  in  the  fall  of  1864,  unless  yon 
were  fond  of  shell  and  a  stray  bullet.  I  was  somewhat  surprised, 
therefore,  as  I  rode  into  the  enclosure — with  a  hot  skirmish  going 
on  a  few  hundred  yards  off — to  see  a  young  oflScer  and  a  maiden 
sitting  on  a  grass  bank,  beneath  a  larch  tree,  and  conversing  in 
the  most  careless  manner  imaginable.* 

TVho  were  these  calmly  indifferent  personages  ?  Their  backs 
were  turned,  and  1  could  only  see  that  the  young  lady  had  a  profu- 
sion of  auburn  hair.  Having  dismounted,  and  approached,  I  made 
another  discovery.  The  youth  was  holding  the  maiden's  hand, 
and  looking  with  flushed  cheeks  into  her  eyes — while  she  hung 
her  head,  the  ringlets  rippling  over  her  cheeks,  and  played  ab- 
sently with  some  wild  flowers,  which  she  held  between  her 
fingers. 

The  "  situation"  was  plain.  "Lovers,"  I  said  to  myself;  "  let 
me  not  disturb  the  voung  ones !" 

And  I  turned  to  walk  away  without  attracting  their  at- 
tention. 

Unfortunately,  however,  a  shell  at  that  instant  screamed  over 
the  ruin  ;  the  young  girl  raised  her  head  with  simple  curiosity — 
not  a  particle  of  fear  evidently — to  watch  the  course  of  the  mis- 
sile ;  and,  as  the  youth  executed  the  like  manoeuvre,  they  both 
became  aware  of  my  presence  at  the  same  moment. 

The  result  was,  that  a  hearty  laugh  echoed  among  the  tomb- 
stones ;  and  that  the  youth  and  maiden  rose,  hastening  rapidly 
toward  me. 

An  instant  afterward  I  was  pressing  the  hand  of  Katy  Dare, 
whom  I  had  left  near  Buckland,  and  that  of  Tom  Herbert,  whom 
I  had  not  seen  since  the  fatal  day  of  Yellow  Tavern. 


LES    FORTUXfe. 

The  auburn  ringlets  of  Katy  Dare  were  as  glossy  as  ever ;  her 
blue  eyes  had  still  the  charming  archness  which  had  made  me 

*  Real. 


LES    FORTUNES.  331 

love  her  from  the  first.  Indeed  her  demeanor  toward  me  had 
been  full  of  such  winning  sweetness  that  it  made  me  her  captive ; 
and  I  now  pressed  the  little  hand,  and  looked  into  the  pretty 
blushing  face  with  the  sentiment  which  I  should  have  experi- 
enced toward  some  favorite  niece. 

Katy  made  you  feel  thus  by  her  artless  and  warm-hearted 
smile.  How  refrain  from  loving  one  whose  blue  eyes  laughed 
like  her  lips,  and  whose  glances  said,  "I  am  happier  since  you 

came!" 

And  Tom  was  equally  friendly ;  his  face  radiant,  his  appear- 
ance distinguished.  He  was  clad  in  a  new  uniform,  half  covered 
with  gold  braid.  His  hat  was  decorated  with  a  magnificent  black 
plume.  His  cavalry  boots,  reaching  to  the  knee,  were  small, 
delicate,  and  of  the  finest  leather.  At  a  moderate  estimation, 
Tom's  costume  must  have  cost  him  three  thousand  dollars!— 

Happy  Tom  ! 

He  grasped  my  hand  with  a  warmth  which  evidently  came 
straight  from  the  heart;  for  he  had  a  heart— that  dandy! 

''Hurrah!  old  fellow ;  liero  you  are!"  Tom  cried,  laughing. 
"  You  came  upon  us  as  suddenly  as  if  you  had  descended  from 

heaven  !" 

"Whither  you  would  like  to  send  me   back!     Am  I  wrong, 

Tom?" 

And  I  shot  a  glance  of  ancient  and  paternal  aflfection  at  these 
two  young  things,  whose  tete-a-tete  I  had  interrupted. 

Katv  blushed  beautifully,  and  then  ended  by  laughing.  Tom 
caressed  his  slender  mustache,  and  said  : — 

"  My  dear  fellow,  I  certainly  should  like  to  go  to  heaven— con- 
sequently to  send  my  friends  there— but  if  it  is  all  the  same  to 
everybody,  I  think  I  would  prefer— hem  !— deferring  the  journey 
for  a  brief  period,  my  boy." 

"  Until  an  angel  is  ready  to  go  with  you  !" 

And  I  glanced  at  the  angel  with  the  ringlets. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  Surry  !"  said  Tom,  smoothing  his  chin  with  his 
hand,  "'you  really  have  a  genius  for  repartee  which  is  intolera- 
ble, and  not  to  be  endured  !" 

"  Let  the  angel  sit  in  judgment !" 

"  Oh,  you  have  most  '  damnable  iteration  !'  " 


332  MOHUN. 

"  I  learned  it  all  from  you." 

"  From  rae,  my  boy  ?" 

"Certainly — see  the  beauty  of  repetition  in  poetry.'* 

And  looking  at  the  damsel,  I  began  to  repeat — 

"Katyl  Katyl 

Don't  marry  any  other  1 
You'll  break  my  heart,  and  kill  me  dead, 
And  then  be  hanged  for  murder  1" 

The  amount  of  blushing,  laughter,  pouting,  good  humor,  and 
hilarity  generally,  which  this  poem  occasioned,  was  charming. 
In  a  few  minutes  we  were  all  seated  again  on  the  grassy  bank, 
and  Tom  had  given  me  a  history  of  his  adventures,  which  had 
not  been  either  numerous  or  remarkable.  He  had  been  assigned 
to  duty  on  the  staff  of  General  Fitzhugh  Lee,  and  it  was  delight- 
ful to  hear  his  enthusiasm  on  the  subject  of  that  gay  and  gallant 
officer. 

"  I  tell  you  he's  a  trump,  old  fellow,"  quoth  Tom,  with  ardor. 
"He's  as  brave  as  steel,  a  first-rate  officer,  a  thorough  gentleman, 
generous,  kind,  and  as  jolly  as  a  lark !  Give  me  Fitz  Lee  to  fight 
with,  or  march  with,  or  hear  laugh  !  He  was  shot  in  tlie  Valley, 
and  I  have  been  with  him  in  Richmond.  In  spite  of  his  wound, 
which  is  a  severe  one,  he  is  as  gay  as  the  sunshine,  and  it  would 
put  you  in  good  spirits  only  to  go  into  his  chamber !" 

"  I  know  General  Fitz  well,  Tom,"  I  replied,  "and  you  are  right 
about  him ;  every  word  you  say  is  true,  and  more  to  boot,  old 
fellow.  So  you  are  cruising  around  now,  waiting  for  your  chief 
to  recover?" 

"Exactly,  my  dear  Surry." 

"  And  have  captured  the  barque  Katy  .'" 

"Humph!"  quoth  Miss  Katy,  tossing  her  head,  with  ablush 
and  a  laugh. 

"Beware  of  pirates,"  I  said,  "  who  make  threats  even  in  their 
verses, — and  now  tell  me.  Miss  Katy,  if  you  are  on  a  visit  to  Pe- 
tersburg ?     It  will  give  me  true  pleasure  to  come  and  see  you." 

"Indeed  you  must  I"  she  said,  looking  at  me  with  the  most 
fascinating  smile,  "for  vou  know  vou  are  one  of  mv  old  friends 
now,  and  must  not  neijlect  me,     I  am  at  my  aunt's,  Mrs.  Hall, — 


LES    FORTUNES.  333 

uncle  brought  me   a  month  ago    from  Buckland ;  ^^but  in  the 
morning  I  shall  go  down  to  a  cousin's  in  Dinwiddle." 

"  In  Dinwiddle,  Miss  Katy?" 

"  Yes,  near  the  Rowanty.     My  cousin,  Mr.  Dare,  has  come  for 


me." 


"  Well,  I  will  visit  you  there." 

"  Please  do.     The  house  is  called   '  Disaway's.'  " 

I  bowed,  smilins:,  and  turned  to  Tom  Herbert. 

-  When  shall  I  see  you  again,  Tom,  and  where  ?    Kext  week— 

at  Disaway's?" 

Tom  colored  and  then  laughed.     This  dandy,  you  see,  was  a 

good  boy  still.  . 

"  Well,  old  fellow,"  he  replied,  "  I  think  it  possible  I  may  visit 
Dinwiddle.  My  respected  chieftain,  General  Fitz,  is  at  present 
reposing  on  his  couch  in  Richmond,  and  I  am  bearer  of  bouquets 
as  well  as  of  dispatches  between  him  and  his  surgeon.  But  I  am 
told  he  is  ordered  to  Dinwiddle  as  soon  as  he  is  up.  The  coun- 
try is  a  new  one ;  the  thought  has  occurred  to  me  that  any  in- 
formation I  can  acquire  by-hem  I-a  topographical  survey 
would  be  valuable.  You  perceive,  do  you  not,  my  dear  friend? 
You  appreciate  my  motive  ?" 

^'  Perfectly,  Tom.     There  will  probably  be  a  battle  near     Dis- 

aAvay's.'  " 

"And  Pd  better  ride  over  the  ground,  eh  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  I'll  do  it ! 

"  Only  beware  of  one  thing  I" 

"  What,  my  dear  Surry?"  asked  Tom,  anxiously. 

"  There  is  probably  a  conservatory  at  Disaway's." 

"  A  conservatory  ?" 

"  Like  that  near  Buckland,  and  the  battle  might  take  place 
tUre.     If  it  does— two  to  one  you  are  routed !" 

Katv  blushed  exquisitely,  smiled  demurely,  and  burst  into  laugh- 
ter Then  catching  my  eye  she  raised  her  linger,  and  shook  her 
head  with   sedate  reproach,  looking  at  Tom.     He  was  laughing. 

"  All  right,  Pll  look  out,  Surry  1" 

"  Resolve  on  one  thing,  Tom." 

"  What  is  that?" 


33i  MOHUN. 

"  That  yon  will  never  surrender,  but  be  taken  in  arms  I" 
With  which  mild  and  inoffensive  joke  I  shook  hands  with 
Tom,  informing  him  where  to  find  me ;  made  Miss  Katy  a  bow, 
which  she  returned  with  a  charming  smile  and  a  little  inclination 
which  shook  together  her  ringlets  ;  and  then  leaving  the  young 
people  to  themselves,  I  mounted  my  horse,  and  returned  to  the 
Cedars. 

All  the  way  I  was  smiling.  A  charming  influence  had  de- 
scended upon  me.  The  day  was  brighter,  the  sunshine  gayer, 
for  the  sight  of  the  young  fellow,  and  the  pretty  little  maiden, 
with  lier  blue  eyes,  like  the  skies,  and  her  ringlets  of  silken  gold  ! 


VI. 

01^    THE    BANKS    OF    THE    PwOWAXTY. 

When  I  again  set  out  for  the  cavalry,  a  few  days  after  the 
scene  at  Blandford  church,  the  youth  and  sunshine  of  those  two 
faces  still  dwelt  in  my  memory,  and  I  went  along  smiling  and 
happy. 

Not  even  the  scenes  on  the  late  battle-field  beyond  the  Ro- 
wanty,  made  my  mood  gloomy ;  and  yet  these  were  not  gay. 
Graves  were  seen  everywhere  ;  the  fences  were  broken  down ;  the 
houses  riddled  by  balls;  and  in  the  trampled  roads  and  fields 
negroes  were  skinning  the  dead  horses,  to  make  shoes  of  their 
hides.  On  the  animals  already  stripped  sat  huge  turkey-buzzards 
feeding.  My  horse  shied  as  the  black  vultures  rose  suddenly  on 
flapping  wings.  They  only  circled  around,  however,  sailing  back 
as  I  disappeared. 

Such  is  war,  reader, — a  charming  panorama  of  dead  bodies  and 
vultures  I 

Turning  into  the  Quaker  road,  I  went  on  until  I  reached  the 
head-quarters  of  General  William  H.  F.Lee,  opposite  Monk's  Neck. 
Here,  under  the  crest  of  a  protecting  hill,  where  the  pine  thickets 
atforded  him  shelter  from  the  wind,  that  gallant  soldier  had  "set 
up  h-is  rest  " — that  is  to  say  a  canvass  fly,  one  end  of  which  was 


BAXKS    OF    THE    ROWAXTY.  335 

closed  with  a  tliick- woven  screen  of  evergreens.  My  visit  was 
delightful,  and  I  shall  always  remember  it  Avith  pleasure. 
Where  are  you  to-day,  general,  and  good  comrades  of  the  old  stall  ? 
You  used  to  laugh  as  hard  as  you  fought — so  your  merriment  was 
immense  !  Heaven  grant  that  to-day,  when  the  bugles  are  silent, 
the  sabres  rusting,  you  are  laughing  as  in  the  days  I  remember ! 

Declining  the  friendly  invitation  to  spend  the  night,  I  went  on 
in  the  afternoon  ;  and  on  my  way  was  further  enlivened  by  a  gay 
scene  which  makes  me  smile  even  to-day.  It  was  in  passing 
General  Butler's  head-quarters  near  the  Rowanty.  In  the  woods 
gleamed  his  white  tents ;"  before  them  stretched  the  level  sandy 
road  ;  a  crowd  of  staff  officers  and  others,  with  the  general  in 
their  midst,  were  admiring  two  glossy  ponies,  led  up  by  two 
small  urchins,  evidently  about  to  run  a  race  on  them. 

Butler — that  brave  soldier,  whom  all  admired  as  much  as  I  did 
— was  limping  about,  in  consequence  of  a  wound  received  at 
Fleetwood,  In  the  excitement  of  the  approaching  race  he  had 
forgotten  his  hurt.  And  soon  the  urchins  were  tossed  up  on  the 
backs  of  their  little  glossy  steeds — minus  all  but  bridle.  Then  they 
took  their  positions  about  three  hundred  yards  off;  remained  an 
instant  abreast  and  motionless ;  then  a  clapping  of  hands  was" 
heard — it  was  the  signal  to  start — and  the  ponies  came  on  like 
lightning. 

The  sight  was  comic  beyond  expression.  The  boys  clung  with 
their  knees,  bending  over  the  floating  manes ;  the  little  animals 
darted  by;  they  disappeared  in  the  woods  "amid  thunders  of 
applause  ;"  and  it  was  announced  that  the  roan  pony  had  won. 

"Trifles,"  you  say,  perhaps,  reader;  "why  don't  our  friend, 
the  colonel,  go  on  with  his  narrative  ?" 

True, — the  reproach  is  just.  But  these  trifles  cling  so  to  the 
memory  !  I  like  to  recall  them — to  review  the  old  scenes — to 
paint  the  "trifles"  even,  which  caught  my  attention  during  the 
great  civil  war.  This  is  not  a  history,  friend — only  a  poor  little 
memoir.  I  show  you  our  daily  lives,  more  than  the  "great 
events  "  of  history.  That  is  the  way  the  brave  Butler  and  his 
South  Carolinians  amused  themselves — and  the  figure  of  this  sol- 
dier is  worth  placing  amid  my  group  of  •'•paladins."  He  was 
brave — none  was   braver;    thoroughbred — I   never   saw  a  man 


336  MOHUN. 

more  so.  His  sword  had  flashed  at  Fleetwood,  and  in  a  hundred 
other  figlits  ;  and  it  was  going  to  flash  to  the  end  ! 

I  pushed  on  after  the  pony  race,  and  very  soon  had  penetrated 
the  belt  of  shadowy  pines  which  clothe  the  banks  of  the  Rowanty, 
making  of  this  country  a  wilderness  as  singular  almost  as  that 
of  Spottsylvania.  Only  here  and  there  appeared  a  small  house, 
similar  to  that  of  Mr.  Alibi's — all  else  was  woods,  woods,  woods! 
Through  the  thicket  wound  the  "military  road"  of  General 
Hampton  ;  and  I  soon  found  that  his  head-quarters  were  at  a 
spot  which -I  had  promised  myself  to  visit — "  Disaway's." 

Two  hours'  ride  brought  me  to  the  place.  Disaway's  was  an 
old  mansion,  standing  on  a  hill  above  the  Rowanty,  near  the 
"  Halifax  bridge,"  by  which  the  great  road  from  Petersburg  to 
North  Carolina  crosses  the  stream.  It  was  a  building  of  consid- 
erable size,  with  Wings,  numerous  gables,  and  a  portico  ;  and 
was  overshadowed  by  great  oaks,  beneatli  which  gleamed  the 
tents  of  Hampton  and  his  staff". 

As  I  rode  up  the  hill,  the  staff"  came  out  to  welcome  me.  I  had 
known  these  brave  gentlemen  well,  when  with  Stuart,  and  they 
were  good  enough,  now,  to  give  me  the  right  hand  of  fellowship, 
— to  receive  me  for  old  times'  sake,  with  "  distinguished  consider- 
ation." The  general  was  as  cordial  as  his  military  family — and 
in  ten  minutes  I  was  seated  and  conversing  with  him,  beneath  the 
great  oak. 

A  charming  cordiality  inspired  the  words  and  countenance  of 
the  great  soldier.  Kearly  four  years  have  passed,  but  I  remember 
still  his  courteous  smile  and  friendly  accents. 

All  at  once,  the  figure  of  a  young  woman  appeared  in  the  door- 
way. At  a  glance  I  recognized  the  golden  ringlets  of  Katy  Dare. 
She  beckoned  to  me,  smiling ;  I  rose  and  hastened  to  greet  her ; 
in  a  moment  we  were  seated  upon  the  portico,  conversing  like  old 
friends. 

There  was  something  fascinating  in  this  child.  The  little 
maiden  of  eighteen  resembled  a  blossom  of  the  spring.  Were 
I  a  poet,  I  should  declare  that  her  azure  eyes  shone  out  from  her 
auburn  hair  like  glimpses  of  blue  sky  behind  sun-tinted  clouds  ! 

I  do  not  know  how  it  came  about,  or  how  I  found  myself  there, 
but  in  a  few  moments  I  was  walking  with  her  in  the  autumn 


BANKS    OF    THE    ROWANTY.  337 

■woods,  and  smiling  as  I  gazed  into  the  deep  bine  of  her  eves. 
The  pines  were  sighing  above  us ;  beneath  onr  feet  a  thick  carpet 
of  brown  tassels  lay;  and  on  the  summit  of  the  evergreens  the 
golden  crown  of  sunset  slowly  rose,  as  though  tlie  fingers  of  some 
unseen  spirit  were  bearing  it  away  into  the  night, 

Katy  tripped  on,  rather  than  walked  —  laughing  and  singing 
gayly.  The  mild  air  just  lifted  the  golden  ringlets  of  her  hair,  as 
she  threw  back  her  beautiful  face ;  her  cheeks  were  rosy  with  the 
joy  of  youth;  and  from  her  smiling  lips,  as  fresh  and  red  as  car- 
nations, escaped  in  sweet  and  tender  notes,  like  the  carol  of  an 
oriole,  that  gav  and  warbling  son<r,  the  "  Bird  of  Beautv." 

Do  you  remember  it,  my  dear  reader  ?  It  is  old — but  so  many 
good  things  are  old  ! 

"  Bird  of  beauty,  whose  bright  plumage 
Sparkles  with  a  thousand  dyes  : 
Bright  thine  eyes,  and  gay  thy  carol. 
Though  stern  winter  rules  the  skies !" 

Do  you  say  that  is  not  very  grand  poetry  ?  I  protest!  friend,  I 
think  it  superior  to  the  chef  d''(Buvres  of  the  masters  ?  You  do 
not  think  so  ?  Ah !  that  is  because  you  did  not  hear  it  sung  in 
the  autumn  forest  that  evening — see  the  ringlets  of  Katy  Dare 
floating  back  from  the  rosy  cheeks,  as  the  notes  escaped  from  her 
smiling  lips,  and  rang  clearly  in  the  golden  sunset.  Do  you 
laugh  at  my  enthusiasm  ?  Well,  I  am  going  to  increase  your 
mirth.  To  the  "Bird  of  Beauty"  succeeded  a  song  which  I 
never  heard  before,  and  have  never  heard  since.  Thus  it  is  a  lost 
pearl  I  rescue,  in  repeating  some  lines.  "What  Katy  sang  was 
t^iis  : — 

"  Come  under,  some  one,  and  give  her  a  kiss ! 
My  honey,  my  love,  my  handsome  dove  I 
My  heart's  been  a-weeping, 
This  long  time  for  you  I 

'Til  hang  you,  I'll  drown  you, 

My  honey,  my  love,  my  handsome  dove  I 
My  heart's  been  a-weeping, 
This  long  time  for  you !'' 

That  was  the  odd,  original,  mysterious,  incomprehensible  poem, 
which  Katy  Dare  carolled  in  the  sunset  that  evening.     It  may 


838  MOHUN. 

seem  stupid  to  some — to  rae  the  words  and  tlie  nir  are  clianning, 
for  I  heard  them  from  the  sweetest  lips  in  the  world.  Indeed 
there  was  somethinj^  so  pure  and  childlike  about  the  young  girl, 
that  I  bowed  before  her.  Her  presence  made  me  better — ban- 
ished all  discordant  emotions.  All  about  her  was  delicate  and 
tender,  and  pure.  Like  her  "bird  of  bright  plumage"  she 
seemed  to  have  flitted  here  to  utter  her  carol,  after  which  she 
would  open  her  wings  and  disappear! 

Katy  ran  on,  in  the  pauses  of  her  singing,  with  a  hundred  little 
jests,  interspersed  with  her  sweet  childlike  laughter,  and  I  was 
more  and  more  enchanted — when  all  at  once  I  saw  her  turn  her 
head  over  her  shoulJer.  A  briijht  flush  came  to  her  cheeks  as 
she  did  so  ;  her  songs  and  laughter  ceased  ;  then — a  step  behind 
us ! 

I  looked  back,  and  found  the  cause  of  her  sudden  ''dignity," 
her  demure  silence.  The  unfortunate  Colonel  Surry  had  quite 
disappeared  from  the  maiden's  mind. 

Coming  on  rapidly,  witli  springy  tread,  1  saw — Tom  Herbert! 
Tom  Herbert,  radiant ;  Tom  Herbert,  the  picture  of  happiness ; 
Tom  Herbert,  singing  in  his  gay  and  ringing  voice  : — 

"  Katy!  Kat,v ! 

Don't  marry  .iny  other! 
You'll  break  my  heart  and  kill  me  dead, 
And  you  U  be  hung  for  murder  !" 

"Wretch  I — I  could  cheerfully  have  strangled  him  1 


vn. 

THE    STUART    HORSE    ARTUXERY. 

Ax  hour  afterward  I  was  at  the  camp  of  the  Stuart  hofse 
artillery. 

Five  minutes  after  greeting  Tom,  who  had  sought  Katy,  at 
"  Disaway's  " — been  directed  to  the  woods — and  tliere  speedily 
joined  us — I  left  the  young  ones  together,  and  made  ray  way  back 


THE    STUART    HORSE    ARTILLERY.     339 

to  the  mansion.  There  are  few  things,  my  dear  reader,  more 
disagreeable  than — just  when  you  are  growing  poetical — when 
blue  eyes  have  excited  your  romantic  feelings — when  your  heart 
has  begun  to  glow —  when  you  think  "I  am  the  cause  of  all  this 
happiness,  and  gayety !" — there  are  few  things  I  say — but  why  say 
it?  In  thirty  seconds  the  rosy-faced  youngster  Tom,  had  driven 
the  antique  and  battered  Surry  quite  from  the  mind  of  the  Bird 
of  Beauty.  That  discomfited  individual,  therefore,  took  his  way 
back  sadly  toDisaway's,  leaving  the  children  his  blessing;  declined 
the  cordial  invitations  to  spend  the  night,  mounted  his  horse, 
and  rode  to  find  Will  Davenant,  at  the  horse  artillery. 

Xheir  camp  was  in  the  edge  of  a  wood,  near  the  banks  of  the 
Rowanty;  and  having  exchanged  greetings  with  ray  old  comrades 
of  the  various  batteries,  and  the  gallant  Colonel  Chew,  their  chief- 
tain, I  repaired  to  Will  Davenant's  head-quarters. 

These  consisted  of  a  breadth  of  canvass,  stretched  heneath  a 
tree  in  the  field — in  front  of  which  burned  a  fire. 

I  had  come  to  talk  with  Will,  but  our  conversation  was  obliged 
to  be  deferred.  The  brave  boys  of  the  horse  artillery,  ofiicers 
and  men,  gathered  round  to  hear  the  news  from  Petersburg  ; 
and  it  was  a  rare  pleasure  to  me  to  see  again  the  old  familiar 
faces.  Around  me,  in  light  of  the  camp-fire,  were  grouped  the 
tigers  who  had  fought  with  Pelham,  in  the  old  battles  of  Stuart. 
Here  were  the  heroes  of  a  hundred  combats ;  the  men  who  had 
held  their  ground  desperately  in  the  most  desperate  encounters 
— the  bull-dogs  who  Had  showed  their  teeth  and  sprung  to  the 
death-grapple  at  Cold  Harbor,  Manassas,  Sharpsburg,  Fredericks- 
burg, Chancellorsville,  Fleetwood,  Gettysburg,  in  the  Wilder- 
ness, at  Trevillian's,  at  Sappony,  in  a  thousand  bitter  conflicts 
with  the  cavalry.  Scarred  faces,  limping  bodies,  the  one-armed, 
the  one-legged, — these  I  saw  around  me ;  the  frames  slashed  and 
mutilated,  but  the  eyes  flashing  and  full  of  fight,  as  in  the  days 
when  Pelham  thundered,  loosing  his  war-hounds  on  the  enemy. 
I  had  seen  brave  commands,  in  these  long  years  of  combat — had 
touched  the  hands  of  heroic  men,  whose  souls  fear  never  entered 
— but  I  never  saw  braver  fighters  than  the  horse  artillery — 
soldiers  more  reckless  than  Pelham's  bloodhounds.  They  went 
to  battle  laughing.     There  was  something  of  the  tiger  in  them. 


340  M  0  n  u  y . 

They  were  of  every  iitation  nearly — Frenchmen.  Irishmen,  Italians, 
— but  one  sentiment  seemed  to  inspire  them — hatred  of  our 
friends  over  the  way.  From  the  moment  in  1802,  when  at  Bar- 
bee's  they  raised  the  loud  resounding  Marseillaise^  while  fight- 
ing t!ie  enemy  in  front  and  rear,  to  this  fall  of  1864,  when  they 
had  strewed  a  hundred  battle-fields  with  dead  men  and  horse.«, 
these  "  swarthy  old  hounds  "  of  the  horse  artillery  had  vindi- 
cated their  claims  to  the  admiration  of  Stuart ; — in  the  thunder  of 
their  guns,  the  dead  chieftain  had  seemed  still  to  hurl  his  defiance 
at  the  invaders  of  Virginia. 

Looking  around  me,  I  missed  many  of  the  old  faces,  sleeping 
now  beneath  the  sod.  But  Dominic,  Antonio,  and  Rossini  were 
still  there — those  members  of  the  old  ''  Napoleon  Detachment " 
of  Pelham's  old  battery ;  there  still  was  Guillemot,  the  erect,  mili- 
tary-looking Frenchman, — Guillemot,  with  his  hand  raised  to  his 
cap,  saluting  me  with  the  profoundest  respect ;  these  were  the 
faces  I  had  seen  a  hundred  times,  and  never  any  thing  but  gay 
and  full  of  fight. 

Doubtless  they  remembered  me,  and  thought  of  Stuart,  as  oth- 
ers had  done,  at  seeing  me.  They  gave  me  a  soldier's  welcome ; 
soon,  from  the  group  around  the  camp-fire  rose  a  song.  Another 
followed,  then  another,  in  the  richest  tenor ;  and  the  forests  of 
Dinwiddle  rang  with  the  deep  voices,  rising  clear  and  sonorous  in 
the  moonlight  night. 

They  were  old  songs  of  Ashby  and  Stuart ;  unpublished  ditties 
of  the  struggle,  which  the  winds  have  borne  away  into  the  night 
of  the  past,  and  which  now  live  only  in  memory.  There  was  one 
of  Ashby,  commencing, — 

"  See  him  enter  on  the  valley," 
which  wound  up  with  the  words, — 

"  And  they  cried,  '  0  God  they've  shot  him  1 
Ashby  is  no  more !' 

Strike,  freemen,  for  your  country, 
Sheathe  your  swords  no  more  ! 
"While  remains  in  arms  a  Yankee 
On  Virginia's  shore  I'' 

The  air  was  sad  and  plaintive.  The  song  rose,  and  wailed,  and 
died  away  like  the  sigh  of  the  wind  in  the  trees,  the  murmuring 


THE    STUART    HORSE    ARTILLERY.     341 

airs  of  evening  in  the  brambles  and  thickets  of  the  Rowantj.     The 

singers  had  fought  under  xVshby,  and  in  their  rude  and  phnntive 

song  they  uttered  their  regrets. 

Then  the  music  changed  its  character,  and  the  stirring  replaced 

the  sad. 

"  If  you  want  to  have  a  good  time, 

J'ine  the  cavalry !" 

came  in  grand,  uproarious  strains;  and  this  was  succeeded  by  the 
jubilant — 

"  Farewell,  forever  to  the  star-spangled  banner, 

No  longer  shall  she  wave  o'er  the  land  of  the  free ; 
Bnt  we'll  unfurl  to  the  broad  breeze  of  heaven, 
The  thirteen  bright  stars  round  the  Palmetto  tree  !" 

At  that  song— and  those  words,  "the  thirteen  bright  stars 
round  the  Palmetto  tree!" — you  might  have  seen  the  eyes  of  the 
Sonth  Carolinians  flash.  Many  other  ditties  followed,  filling  the 
moonlight  night  with  song— "The  Bonnie  Blue  Flag,"  "Katy 
Wells,"  and  "  The  Louisiana  Colors."  This  last  was  never  printed. 
Here  are  a  few  of  the  gay  verses  of  the  "  Irish  Lad  from  Dixie  :" — 

"My  sweetheart's  name  is  Kathleen, 

For  her  I'll  do  or  die  ; 
She  has  a  striped  straw  mattress, 

A  shanty,  pig,  and  sty. 
Her  cheeks  are  bright  and  beautiful, 

Her  hair  is  dark  and  curly, 
She  sent  me  with  the  secesh  boys 

To  fight  with  General  Early. 

"  She  made  our  flag  with  her  own  hands, 

My  Kathleen  fair  and  clever, 
And  twined  its  stall  with  shamrock  green, 

Old  Ireland's  pride  forever ! 
She  gave  it  into  our  trust, 

Among  our  weeping  mothers ; — 
'  Eemember,  Irish  men  I'  she  said, 

'  You  bear  the  Ked  Cross  colors  I' 

"  She  told  me  I  must  never  ran  ; 

The  Eebel  boys  were  brothers ; — 
To  stand  forever  by  our  flag, 

The  Louisiana  colors ! 
And  then  she  said,  '  If  you  desert. 

You'll  go  to  the  Old  Baily!' 
Says  I, '  My  lovo,  when  I  can't  shoot, 

I'll  use  my  old  shillalah  I' 


342  MOIIUN. 

"And  many  a  bloody  charge  we  made. 

Nor  mind  the  battle's  blaze ; 
God  gave  to  us  a  hero  bold, 

Our  bonny  Harry  Hays  I 
And  on  the  heights  of  Gettysburg, 

At  twilight  first  was  seen, 
The  stars  of  Louisiana  bright, 

And  Katy's  shamrock  green. 

"  And  oh  !  if  I  get  home  again, 

I  swear  I'll  never  leave  her; 
I  hope  the  straw  mattress  will  keep. 

The  pig  won't  have  the  fever! 
For  then,  you  know,  I'll  marry  Kate, 

And  never  think  of  others. 
Hurrah,  then,  for  the  shamrock  green, 

And  the  Louisiana  colors!" 

It  was  nearly  midniglit  before  the  men  separated,  repairing  to 
their  tents.  Their  songs  had  charmed  me,  and  made  the  kmg 
hours  flit  by  like  birds.  Where  are  yon,  brave  singers,  in  this  year 
'68?  I  know  not — you  are  all  scattered.  Your  guns  have  ceased 
their  thunder,  your  voices  sound  no  more.  But  I  think  you  some- 
times remember,  as  you  muse,  in  these  dull  years,  those  gay 
moonlight  nights  on  the  banks  of  the  Rowanty ! 


VIII. 

"CHARGE!      STUART!      PAY    OFF    ASHBY'S    SCORE!" 

These  memories  are  beguiling,  and  while  they  possess  me,  my 
drama  does  not  march. 

But  you  have  not  been  wearied,  I  hope,  my  dear  reader,  by 
this  little  pencil  sketch  of  the  brave  horse  artiller}Tnen.  I  found 
myself  among  them ;  the  moonlight  shone ;  the  voices  sang  ;  and 
I  have  paused  to  look  and  listen  again  in  memory. 

These  scenes,  however,  can  not  possess  for  you,  the  attraction 
they  do  for  me.  To  proceed  with  my  narrative.  I  shall  pass  over 
my  long  conversation  with  Will  Davenant,  whose  bed  I  shared.    I 


PAY    OFF    ASBY'S    SCORE.  343 

had  promised  his  father  to  reveal  nothing  of  the  events  which  I  had 
60  strangely  discovered — and  was  then  only  able  to  give  the  youiii^ 
man  vague  assurances  of  a  coming  change  for  the  better  in  his  af- 
fair with  Miss  Conway.  He  thanked  me,  blushing,  and  trying  to 
smile— and  then  we  fell  asleep  beside  each  other. 

Jnst  at  daylight  I  was  suddenly  aroused.  The  jarring  notes  of 
a  bugle  were  ringing  through  the  woods.  I  extended  my  arm  in 
the  darkness,  and  found  that  Will  Davenant  was  not  beside  me. 

What  had  happened?  I  rose  quickly,  and  throwing  my  cape 
over  my  shoulders,  went  out  of  the  tent. 

The  horse  artillery  was  already  hitched  up,  and  in  motion.  The 
setting  moon  illumined  the  grim  gun-barrels,  caissons,  and  heavy 
horses,  moving  v.-ith  rattling  chains.  Behind  came  the  men  on 
horseback,  laughing  and  ready  for  combat. 

As  I  was  gazing  at  this  warlike  scene  so  suddenly  evoked.  Will 
Davenant  rode  up  and  pointed  to  my  horse,  which  was  ready 
saddled,  and  attached  to  a  bough  of  the  great  tree. 

"I  thought  I  wouldn't  wake  you,  colonel,"  he  said,  with  a 
smile,  "but  let  you  sleep  to  the  last  moment.  The  enemy  are 
advancing,  and  we  are  going  to  meet  them." 

He  had  scarcely  spoken,  when  a  rapid  firing  Was  heard  two  or 
three  miles  in  front,  and  a  loud  cheer  rose  from  the  artillerymen. 
In  a  moment  the  guns  were  rushing  on  at  a  gallop,  and,  as  I  rode 
beside  them,  I^saw  a  crimson  glare  shoot  up  above  the  v^oods,  in 
the  direction  of  the  Weldon  railroad.     The  firing  had  meanwhile 
grown  heavier,  and  the  guns  were  rushed  onward.     Will  Dave- 
nant's  whole  appearance  had  completely  changed.     The  youth,  so 
retiring  in  camp,  so  cool  in  a  hot  fight,  seemed  burnt  up  with 
impatience,  at  the  delay  caused  by  the  terrible  roads.     His  voice 
had  become  hoarse  and  imperious ;  he  was  everywhere  urging  on 
the  drivers ;  when  the  horses  stalled  in  the  fathomless  mudholes, 
he  would  strike  the  animals,  in  a  sort  of  rage,  with  the  flat  of  his 
sabre,  forcing  them  with  a  leap  which  made  the  traces  crack,  to 
drag  the  piece  out  of  the  hole,  and  onward.     A  glance  told  me, 
then,  what  was  the  secret  of  this  mere  boy's  splendid  efiiciency. 
Under  the  shy,  blushing  face,  was  the  passion  and  will  of  the  born 
soldier — the  beardless  boy  had  become  the  master  mind,   and 
drove  on  every  thing  by  his  starn  will. 
15 


344  MOHUK 

In  spite  of  every  exertion  to  overcome  the  obstacles  in  tlie 
roads,  it  was  nearly  sunrise  before  we  reached  open  ground. 
Then  we  emerged  upon  the  upland,  near  "Disaway's,"  and  saw  a 
picturesque  spectacle.  From  the  hill,  we  could  make  out  every 
thing.  A  hot  cavalry  fight  was  going  on  beneath  us.  The  enemy 
had  evidently  crossed  the  Rowanty  lower  down  ;  and  driving  in 
the  pickets,  had  passed  forward  to  the  railroad. 

The  guns  were  rushed  toward  the  spot,  unlimbered  on  a  rising 
ground,  and  their  thunder  rose  suddenly  above  the  forests.  Shell 
after  shell  burst  amid  the  enemy,  breaking  their  ranks,  and  driv- 
ing them  back — and  by  the  time  I  had  galloped  through  a  belt  of 
woods  to  the  scene  of  the  fight,  they  lost  heart,  retreated  rapidly, 
and  disappeared,  driven  across  the  Rowanty  again,  with  the  Con- 
federates pursuing  them  so  hotly,  that  many  of  the  gray  cavalry 
punched  them  in  the  back  with  their  empty  carbines.* 

Their  object  in  crossing  had  been  to  burn  a  small  mill ;  and  in 
this  they  had  succeeded,  after  which  they  retired  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible to  their  "own  side."  Some  queer  scenes  had  accompanied 
this  ''  tremendous  military  movement.'*'  In  a  house  near  the  mill, 
resided  some  ladies;  and  we  found  them  justly  indignant  at  the 
course  of  the  enemy.  The  Federal  oflacers — general  officers — had 
ordered  the  house-furniture  to  be  piled  up,  the  carriage  to  be 
drawn  into  the  pile,  and  then  shavings  were  heaped  around,  and 
the  whole  set  on  fire,  amid  shouts,  cheers,  and  firing.  The  lady 
of  the  mansion  remonstrated  bitterly,  but  received  little  satisfac- 
tion. 

"I  have  no  time  to  listen  to  women !''t  said  the  Federal 
general,  rudely. 

"  It  is  not  time  you  want,  sir!"  returned  the  lady,  with  great 
hauteur,  "it  is  politeness  / ''"'  J 

This  greatly  enraged  the  person  whom  she  addressed,  and  he 
became  furious,  when  the  lady  added  that  all  the  horses  had  been 
sent  away.     At  that  moment  an  officer  near  him  said  : — 

"  General  if  you  are  going  to  burn  the  premises,  you  had  better 
commence,  as  the  rebs  are  pursuing  us." 

"  Order  it  to  be  done  at  once!"  w^as  the  grufip  reply. 

And  the  mill  was  fired,  in  the  midst  of  a  great  uproar,  with  which 

•  Fact.  t  His  words.  J  Her  words. 


MOHUX.— HIS    THIRD    PHASE.  345 

mingled   shouts   of,   "  The  Rebels   are  coming !  The  Rebels  are 
coming!" 

Soon  they  came,  a  hot  fight  followed,  and  during  this  fight  a 
young  woman  watched  it,  holding  her  little  brother  by  the  hand 
near  the  burning  mill.  I  had  afterward  the  honor  of  making  her 
acquaintance,  and  she  told  me  that  throughout  the  firing  she 
found  herself  repeating  over  and  over,  unconsciously,  the  lines  of 
the  song, — 

"  Charge  1  Stnart!  pay  off  Ashby's  score, 
In  Stonewall  Jackson's  way."  * 

The  enemy  had  thus  efi*ected  their  object,  and  retreated  hotly 
pursued.  I  followed  toward  the  lower  Rowanty,  and  had  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  them  hurried  over.  So  ended  this  immense 
military  movement. 


IX. 

MOHUN,— HIS    THIRD    PHASE. 

I  WAS  about  to  turn  my  horse  and  ride  back  from  the  stream, 
across  which  the  enemy  had  disappeared,  when  all  at  once 
Mohun,  who  had  led  the  pursuit,  rode  up  to  me,  and  we  exchanged 
a  cordial  greeting. 

"  Well,  this  little  aflPair  is  over,  my  dear  Surry,"  he  said ;  "  have 
you  any  thing  to  occupy  you  for  two  or  three  hours  ?" 

"IsTothing;  entirely  at  your  service,  jMohun." 

"  Well,  I  wish  you  to  accompany  me  on  a  private  expedition. 
Will  you  follow  me  blindfold?" 

"  Confidinglv." 

And  I  rode  on  beside  Mohun,  who  had  struck  into  a  path  along 
the  banks  of  the  Rowanty,  leading  back  in  the  direction  of  Hali- 
fax bridge. 

As  we  rode  on,  I  looked  attentively  at  him.     I  scarcely  recog- 

*  Fact. 


346  MOHUN. 

nizecl.  in  the  personage  beside  me,  the  !Mohun  of  the  past.  Hi.s 
gloo:n  so  profound  on  tliat  night  when  I  parted  "with  him.  after 
the  expedition  to  the  lonely  house  beyond  Monk^s  Xeck,  had  en- 
tirely disappeared;  and  I  saw  in  him  as  few  traces  of  the  days  on 
the  Rappahannock,  in  Pennsylvania,  and  the  Wilderness.  These 
progressive  steps  in  the  development  of  Mohun's  character  may 
be  indicated  by  styling  them  the  first,  second,  and  third  phases  of 
the  individual.  He  had  entered  now  upon  the  third  phase,  and 
I  compared  him,  curiously  with  his  former  self. 

On  the  Rappahannock,  when  I  saw  him  first,  Mohun  had  been 
cynical,  bitter,  full  of  gloomy  misanthropy.  Something  seemed 
to  have  hardened  him,  and  made  him  hate  his  species.  In  the 
bloom  of  earlv  manhood,  when  his  life  was  vet  in  the  flower,  and 
should  have  prompted  him  to  all  kind  and  sweet  emotions,  he 
was  a  stranger  to  all — to  charity,  good-will,  friendship,  all  that 
makes  life  endurable.  The  tree  was  young  and  lusty ;  the  spring 
was  not  over;  freshness  and  verdure  should  have  clothed  it;  and 
yet  it  appeared  to  have  been  blasted.  TVhat  had  dried  up  its  sap, 
I  asked  myself — withering  and  destroying  it  ?  What  thunder- 
bolt had  struck  this  sturdv  voung  oak?  I  could  not  answer — but 
from  the  first  moment  of  our  acquaintance,  Mohun  became  for  me 
a  problem. 

Then  the  second  phase  presented  itself.  When  I  met  him  in 
the  Wilderness,  in  May,  1864,  a  great  cliange  had  come  over  him. 
He  was  no  longer  bitter  and  cynical.  The  cloud  had  plainly 
swept  away,  leaving  the  skies  of  his  life  brighter.  Gayety  had 
succeeded  gloom.  The  rollicking  enjoyment  of  the  true  cavalry- 
man had  replaced  the  recklessness  of  the  man-hater.  Again  I 
looked  at  him  with  attention — for  his  courage  had  made  me  ad- 
mire him,  and  his  hidden  grief  had  aroused  my  sympathy.  A 
great  weight  had  plainly  been  lifted  from  his  shoulders;  he 
breathed  freer;  the  sap  long  dried  up  had  begun  to  flow  again; 
and  the  buds  told  that  the  leaves  of  youth  and  hope  were  about  to 
reappear.     What  was  the  meaning  of  that? 

Now  the  third  phase  of  the  man  liad  come  to  excite  in  me  more 
surprise  and  interest  than  the  former  ones.  This  time  the  change 
was  complete.  Mohun  seemed  no  longer  himself.  Was  the  man 
riding  beside  me  the  old  Mohun  of  1863  ?    Where  was  the  gloomy 


MOHUN.— HIS    THIRD    PHASE.  347 

misanthropy — vvliere  the  rollicking  humor?  They  had  quite  dis- 
appeared. Mohuu's  glance  was  gentle  and  his  countenance  filled 
with  a  charming  modesty  and  sweetness.  His  voice,  once  so  cold, 
and  then  so  hilarious,  had  grown  calm,  low,  measured,  almost 
soft.  His  smile  was  exquisitely  cordial ;  his  glance  full  of  ear- 
nestness and  sweetness.  The  heaven-born  spirit  of  kindness — 
that  balm  for  all  the  wounds  of  human  existence — shone  in  his 
eyes,  on  his  lips,  in  every  accent  of  his  voice. 

Colonel  Mohun  had  been  reckless,  defiant,  unhappy,  or  wildly 
gay.  General  Mohun  was  calm,  quietly  happy  it  seemed.  You 
would  have  said  of  him,  formerly,  "  This  is  a  man  who  fights  from 
hatred  of  his  enemies,  or  the  exuberant  life  in  him."  Now  you 
would  have  said,  "This  is  a  patriot  who  fights  from  principle,  and 
is  worthy  to  die  in  a  great  cause." 

"What  had  worked  this  change  ?  I  asked  myself  once  more. 
Was  it  love  ?  Or  was  it  the  conviction  which  the  Almighty  sends 
to  the  most  hardened,  that  life  is  not  made  to  indulge  hatred,  but 
to  love  and  perform  our  duty  in  ? 

I  knew  not ;  but  there  was  the  phenomenon  before  me.  Mo- 
hun was  certainly  a  new  man,  and  looked  on  life  and  the  world 
around  him  with  a  gentleness  and  kindness  of  which  I  had  be- 
lieved him  incapable. 

"  I  am  going  to  take  you  to  see  a  somewhat  singular  charac- 
ter," he  said. 

"Who  is  he?" 

"  It  is  a  woman." 

"Ah!" 

"  And  a  very  strange  one,  I  promise  you,  my  dear  Surry." 

"Lead  on,  I'll  follow  thee!" 

"  Good  !  and  I  declare  to  you,  I  think  Shakespeare  would  have 
examined  this  human  being  with  attention." 

"  Slie  is  a  phenomenon,  then  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  A  witch  ?" 

"  jSTo,  an  epileptic  ;  at  least  I  think  so." 

"Indeed!     And  where  does  she  live?" 

"  On  the  Halifax  road,  some  miles  from  the  Rowanty." 

"In  the  lines  of  the  enemy,  then?" 


348  MOHUN. 

"  Something  like  it." 

"Humph!" 

"  Don't  disturb  yourself  about  that,  Surrv.  I  have  sent  out  a 
scouting  party  who  are  clearing  tlie  country.  Tlieir  pickets  are 
back  to  Rearas's  by  this  time,  and  tliere  is  little  danger." 

"  At  all  events,  we'll  share  any,  Mohun.     Forward!" 

And  we  pushed  on  to  the  Halifax  bridge,  where,  as  M^ohun  ex- 
pected, there  was  no  Federal  picket. 

The  bridge — a  long  rough  affair — had  been  half  destroyed  by 
General  Hampton ;  but  we  forded  near  it,  pushed  our  horses 
through  the  swamp,  amid  the  heavy  tree  trunks,  felled  to  form 
an  abatis,  and  gaining  the  opposite  bank  of  the  Rowanty,  rode 
on  rapidly  in  the  direction  of  Petersburg,  that  is  to  say,  toward 
the  rear  of  the  Federal  army. 


X. 

AMANDA. 

Half  an  hour's  ride  through  the  swampy  low  grounds  rising 
to  gentle  uplands,  and  beneath  the  festoons  of  the  great  vines 
trailing  from  tree  to  tree,  brought  us  in  front  of  a  small  house, 
half  buried  in  a  clump  of  bushes,  like  a  hare's  nest  amid  bram- 
bles. 

"  We  have  arrived !"  said  Mohun,  leading  the  way  to  the 
cabin,  which  we  soon  reached. 

Throwing  his  bridle  over  a  bough  near  the  low  fence,  Mohun 
approached  the  door  on  foot,  I  following,  and  when  close  to  the 
door,  he  gave  a  low  knock. 

"  Come  in!"  said  a  cheerful  and  smiling  voice. 

And  Mohun  opened  the  door,  through  which  we  passed  into  a 
small  and  very  neat  apartment  containing  a  table,  some  chairs,  a 
wide  fireplace,  in  which  some  sticks  were  burning,  a  number  of 
cheap  engravings  of  religious  scenes,  framed  and  hanging  on  the 
wall,  and  a  low  bed,  upon  which  lay  a  woman  fully  dressed. 

She  was  apparently  about  thirty-five,  and  her  appearance  was 


AMANDA.  349 

exceedingly  curious.  Her  figure  was  slender  and  of  medinm 
height;  her  complexion  that  of  a  Moorish  or  oriental  woman, 
rather  than  that  of  the  quadroon,  which  she  appeared  to  be  ;  her 
hair  black,  waving,  and  abundant;  her  eyes  as  dark  and  spark- 
ling as  burnished  ebony;  and  her  teeth  of  dazzling  whiteness. 
Her  dress  was  neat,  and  of  bright  colors.  Around  her  neck  she 
wore  a  very  odd  necklace,  which  seemed  made  of  carved  bone  ; 
and  her  slender  fingers  were  decorated  with  a  number  of  rings.* 

Such  was  the  personage  who  greeted  us,  in  a  voice  of  great 
calmness  and  sweetness,  as  we  entered.  She  did  not  rise  from 
the  bed  upon  which  she  was  lying ;  but  her  cordial  smile  clearly 
indicated  that  this  did  not  arise  from  discourtesy. 

"Take  seats,  gentlemen,"  she  said,  "and  please  excuse  me 
from  getting  up.     I  am  a  little  poorly  to-day." 

"  Stay  where  you  are,  Amanda,"  said  Mohun,  "  and  do  not 
disturb  yourself." 

She  looked  at  him  with  her  dark  eyes,  and  said,  in  her  gentle, 

friendly  voice : — 

"  You  know  me,  I  see,  General  Mohun." 

"  And  you  me,  I  see,  Amanda." 

"  I  never  saw  you  before,  sir,  but— am  I  mistaken?" 

"Not  in  the  least.     How  did  you  know  me ?" 

The  singular  Amanda  smiled. 

"I  have  seen  you  often,  sir." 

"Ah — in  vour  visions?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Or,  perhaps,  Nighthawk  described  me.  You  know  Mr.  Night- 
hawk!" 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir.  I  hope  he  is  well.  He  has  often  been  here ;  he 
may  have  told  me  what  you  were  like,  sir,  and  then  I  saw  you  to 
know  you  afterward." 

I  looked  at  the  speaker  attentively.  Was  she  an  impostor  ?  It 
was  impossible  to  think  so.     There  was  absolutely  no  evidence 

*  "I  have  endeavored  to  give  an  exact  deseription  of  this  singular  -woman."  Colonel 
6urr7  said  to  me  when  he  read  this  passage  to  me :  "  She  will  probably  be  remember- 
ed by  numbers  of  persons  in  both  the  Federal  and  Confederate  armies.  These  will 
tell  you  that  I  describe  her  accurately,  using  her  real  name,  and  will  recall  the  strange 
prediction  which  she  made,  and  which  I  hero  repeat.  Was  she  an  epileptic?  I  do 
not  know.    I  have  certainly  never  encountered  a  more  curious  character  1"— [Editoe, 


350  MOHUy. 

whatever  that  she  was  acting  a  part — rather  every  thing  to  forbid 
the  supposition,  as  she  thus  readily  acquiesced  in  Mohun's  simple 
explanation. 

For  some  moments  Mohun  remained  silent.     Then  he  said : — 

"Those  visions  which  you  have  are  very  strange.  Is  it  possi- 
ble that  you  really  see  things  before  they  come  to  pass — or  are 
you  only  amusing  yourself,  and  others,  by  saying  so?  I  see  no 
especial  harm  in  the  matter,  if  you  are  jesting ;  but  tell  me,  for 
my  own  satisfaction  and  that  of  my  friend,  if  you  really  see 
things." 

Amanda  smiled  with  untroubled  sweetness. 

"  I  am  in  earnest,  sir,"  she  said,  "  and  I  would  not  jest  with 
you  and  Colonel  Surry." 

I  listened  in  astonishment. 

"Ah!  you  know  me,  too,  Amanda!" 

"  Yes,  sir — or  T  think  I  do.     I  ihink  you  are  Colonel  Surry,  sir." 

"How  do  you  know  that?" 

"I  have  seen  you.,  too.,  sir?"  was  the  smiling  reply. 

I  sat  down,  leaned  my  head  upon  my  hand,  and  gazed  at  this 
incomprehensible  being.  Was  she  really  a  wicch  ?  I  do  not 
believe  in  witches,  and  at  once  rejected  that  theory.  If  not  an 
imposter,  then,  only  one  other  theory  remained — that  Xighthawk 
had  described  my  person  to  her,  in  the  same  manner  that  he  had 
Mohun's,  and  the  woman  might  thus  believe  that  she  had  seen 
me,  as  well  as  my  companion,  in  her  "  visions." 

To  her  last  words,  however,  I  made  no  reply,  and  Mohun 
renewed  the  colloquy,  as  before. 

"  Then  you  are  really  in  earnest,  Amanda,  and  actually  see,  in 
vision,  what  is  coming  to  pass?"  he  said. 

"I  think  I  do,  sir." 

"  Do  you  have  the  visions  often  ?" 

"  I  did  once,  sir,  but  they  now  seldomer  come." 

"  What  produces  them  ?" 

"  I  think  it  is  any  excitement,  sir.  They  tell  me  that  I  lay 
on  my  bed  moaning,  and  moving  my  arms  about, — and  when  I 
v.-ake,  after  these  attacks,  I  remember  seeing  the  visions." 

"  I  hear  that  you  predicted  General  Hunter's  attack  on  Lexing- 
ton last  June." 


AMAiTDA.  351 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  told  a  lady  what  /  saw^  some  months  before  it 
came  to  pass," 

''  "What  did  you  see?     Will  you  repeat  it  for  us?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir.  I  remember  all,  and  will  tell  you  about  it,  as  it 
seems  to  interest  you.  I  saw  a  town,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
mountain,  which  thej  afterward  told  me  was  called  Lexington — 
but  I  did  not  know  its  name  then — and  a  great  army  of  men  in 
blue  dresses  came  marching  in,  shouting  and  cheering.  The  next 
thing  I  saw  was  a  large  building  on  fire,  and  through  the  win- 
dows I  saw  books  burning,  with  some  curious-looking  things,  of 
which  I  do  not  know  the  names." 

"  The  Military  Institute,  with  the  books  and  scientific  appara- 
tus," said  Mohun,  calmly, 

"  Was  it,  sir?     I  did  not  know." 

"What  did  vou  see  afterward,  Amanda?" 

"Another  house  burning,  sir;  the  Federal  people  gave  the 
ladies  ten  minutes  to  leave  it,  and  then  set  it  on  fire." 

Mohun  glanced  at  rae. 

"That  is  strange,"  he  said;  "do  you  know  the  name  of  the 
family?" 

"io,  sir." 

"It  was  Governor  Letcher's.     Well,  what  next?" 

"  Then  they  went  in  a  great  crowd,  and  broke  open  another 
building — a  large  house,  sir — and  took  every  thing.  Among  the 
things  they  took  was  a  statue,  which  they  did  not  break  up,  but 
carried  away  with  them." 

"Washington's  statue!"  murmured  Mohun;  and,  turning  to 
me,  he  added : — 

"  This  is  curious,  is  it  not,  Surry?" 

I  nodded. 

"  Very  curious." 

I  confess  I  believed  that  the  strange  woman  was  trifling  with 
us,  and  had  simply  made  up  this  story  after  the  event.  Mohun 
saw  my  incredulity,  and  said,  in  a  low  tone  : — 

"You  do  not  believe  in  this?" 

"No,"  I  returned,  in  the  same  tone. 

"  x\nd  yet  one  thing  is  remarkable." 

"  What?" 

15* 


35 


2  MOllUJsT, 


"  That  a  lady  of  the  highest  character  assured  me,  the  other 
day,  that  a]l  this  was  related  to  her  before  Hunter  even  entered 
the  Valley."  * 

And  turning  to  Amanda,  he  said  : — 

"  Wlien  did  voii  see  these  things?" 

"I  think  it  was  in  March,  sir." 

The  words  were  uttered  in  the  simplest  manner  possible.  The 
strange  woman  smiled  as  sweetly  as  she  spoke,  and  seemed  as  far 
from  being  guilty  of  a  deliberate  imposture  as  before. 

"And  you  saw  the  fight  at  Ream's,  too  ?" 

"Yes,  sir;  I  saw  it  two  months  before  it  took  place.  There 
was  a  man  killed  running  though  the  yard  of  a  house,  and  they 
told  me,  afterward,  he  was  found  dead  there." 

"  Have  you  had  any  visions,  since  ?" 

"  Only  one,  sir." 

"Latelv?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  What  did  you  see  ?" 

"  It  was  not  much,  sir.  I  saw  the  Federal  people  on  horses, 
watering  their  horses  in  a  large  river  somewhere  west  of  here, 
and  the  vision  said  the  war  would  be  over  about  next  March." 

Mohun  smiled. 

"Which  side  will  be  successful,  Amanda?" 

"The  vision  did  not  say,  sir."t 

Mohun,  who  had  taken  his  seat  on  a  rude  settee,  leaned  his  el- 
bow on  his  knee,  and  for  some  moments  gazed  into  the  fire. 

"  I  have  asked  you  some  questions,  Amanda,"  he  said  at  length, 
"  relating  to  public  events.  I  now  come  to  some  private  matters 
— those  which  brought  me  hither — in  which  your  singular  visions 
may  probably  assist  me.     Are  you  willing  to  help  me  ?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,  sir,  if  I  can,"  was  the  reply. 

*  Fact 

t  Colonel  Surry  assured  me  that  he  had  scrupulously  searched  his  memory  to  recall 
the  exact  words  of  this  singular  woman ;  and  that  he  had  given  the  precise  substance 
of  her  statements ;  often,  the  exact  words. — [Ed. 


DEEP    UNDER    DEEP.  353 

XL 

DEEP    UNDER    DEEP. 

MoHTJX  fixed  his  mild,  and  yet  penetrating  glance  upon  the  singu- 
lar woman,  who  sustained  it,  however,  with  no  change  in  her  calm 
and  smiling  expression. 

"You  know  ISTighthawk ?" 

*'  Oh,  yes,  sir.     He  has  been  here  often." 

"AndSwartz?" 

"Very  well,  sir — I  have  known  him  many  years." 

"  Have  you  seen  him,  lately  ?" 

"No,  sir;  not  for  some  weeks." 

"Ah  !     You  saw  him  some  weeks  since?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  At  this  house  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Do  you  know  what  has  become  of  him  ?" 

"  No,  sir  ;  but  I  suppose  he  is  off  somewhere." 

"He  is  dead!" 

Her  head  rose  slightly,  but  the  smile  was  unchanged. 

"You  don't  tell  me,  sir!" 

*'  Yes,  murdered ;  perhaps  you  know  his  murderer  ?" 

"Who  was  it,  sir?" 

"Colonel  Darke." 

"Oh,  I  know  Mm.  He  has  been  here,  lately.  Poor  Mr. 
Swartz  !     And  so  they  murdered  him  !     I  am  sorry  for  him." 

Mohun's  glance  became  more  penetrating. 

"You  say  that  Colonel  Darke  has  been  here  lately?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  What  was  the  occasion  of  his  visit  ?" 

"I  don't  know,  sir ;    unless  it  was  to  hear  me  tell  my  visions." 

"  You  never  knew  him  before  ?" 

Amanda  hesitated. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  she  said  at  length. 

"When,  and  how?" 


35-Jlr  MOnUN. 

"  It  was  many  years  ago,  sir ; — T  do  not  like  to  speak  of  these 
thin.<Ts.     He  is  a  terrible  man,  they  say." 

"  You  can  speak  to  me,  Amanda.  I  will  repeat  nothing  ;  nor 
will  Colonel  Snrry." 

The  singular  woman  looked  from  Mohnn  to  me,  evidently  hesi- 
tating. Then  she  seemed  suddenly  to  make  up  her  mind,  and 
said,  with  her  eternal  smile  : — 

''  I  will  tell  yon,  then,  sir.  I  can  read  faces,  and  I  know  neither 
you  nor  Colonel  Surry  will  get  me  into  trouble." 

"  I  will  not — on  my  honor." 

"XorI,"Isaid. 

"  That  is  enough,  gentlemen  ;  and  now  I  will  tell  yon  what 
you  wish  to  know.  General  Mohun." 

As  she  spoke  she  closed  her  eyes,  and  seemed  for  some  mo- 
ments to  be  reflecting.  Then  opening  them  again,  she  gazed, 
with  her  calm  smile,  at  Mohun,  and  said  : — 

"  It  was  many  years  ago,  sir,  when  I  first  saw  Colonel  Darke, 
who  then  went  by  another  name.  I  was  living  in  this  same  house, 
when  late  one  evening  a  light  carriage  stopped  before  tho  door,  and 
a  gentleman  got  out  of  it,  and  came  in.  He  said  he  was  travelling 
with  his  wife,  who  had  been  taken  sick,  and  would  I  give  them  shel- 
ter until  morning,  when  she  would  be  able  to  go  on  ?  I  was  a  poor 
woman,  sir,  as  I  am  now,  and  hoped  tb  be  paid.  I  would  have  given 
the  poor  sick  lady  shelter  all  the  same,  though — and  I  told  him  he 
could  come  in,  and  sleep  in  this  room,  and  I  would  go  into  that  closet- 
like place  behind  you,  sir.  "Well,  he  thanked  me,  and  went  back 
to  the  carriage,  where  a  lady  sat.  He  took  her  in  his  arms  and 
brought  her  along  to  the  house,  when  I  saw  that  she  was  a  very 
beautiful  young  lady,  but  quite  pale.  Well,  sir,  she  came  in  and 
sat  down  in  that  chair  you  are  now  sitting  in,  and  after  awhile, 
said  she  was  better.  Tlie  gentleman  had  gone  out  and  put  away 
his  horse,  and  when  he  came  back  I  had  supper  ready,  and  every 
thing  comfortable." 

''  What  was  the  appearance  of  the  lady  ?"  said  Mohun,  over 
whose  brow  a  contraction  passed. 

''  She  was  small  and  dark,  sir ;  but  had  the  finest  eyes  I  ever 
saw." 

"  The  same,"  said  Mohun,  in  a  low  tone.     '*  Well  ?" 


DEEP    UNDER    DEEP.  355 

"They  stayed  all  night,  sir.  Next  morning  they  paid  me, — 
though  it  was  little — and  went  on  toward  the  south." 

"  They  seemed  poor  ?" 

"Yes,  sir.  The  lady's  dress  was  cheap  and  faded — and  the 
gentleman's  threadbare." 

"  What  names  did  they  give  ?" 

"Mr.  and  Airs.  ITortimer,  sir." 

Mohun's  brow  again  contracted. 

"Well,  go  on,"  he  said,  "or  rather,  go  back,  Amanda.  You 
say  that  they  remained  with  you  until  the  morning.  Did  you  not 
hear  some  of  their  conversation — gain  some  knowledge  of  whence 
they  came,  whither  they  were  going,  and  what  was  the  object  of 
their  journey?" 

The  w^oman  hesitated,  glancing  at  Mobiin.  Then  she  smiled, 
and  shook  her  head. 

"  You  will  get  me  into  trouble,  sir,"  she  said. 

"  I  will  not,  upon  my  honor.  You  have  told  me  er.ough  to 
enable  me 'to  do  so,  however — why  not  tell  me  all?  You  say  you 
slept  in  that  closet  there — so  you  must  have  heard  them  converse. 
I  am  entitled  to  know  all — tell  me  what  they  said." 

And  taking  from  his  purse  a  piece  of  gold,  Mohun  placed  it  in 
the  hand  extended  upon  the  bed.  The  hand  closed  upon  it — 
clutched  it.  The  eye  of  the  woman  glittered,  and  I  saw  that  she 
had  determined  to  speak. 

"It  was  not  much,  sir,"  she  said.  "I  did  listen,  and  heard 
many  things,  but  they  would  not  interest  you." 

"  On  the  contrary,  they  will  interest  me  much." 

"It  was  a  sort  of  quarrel  I  overheard,  sir.  Mr.  Mortimer 
was  blaming  his  wife  for  something,  and  said  she  had  brought 
him  to  misery.  She  replied  in  the  same  way,  and  said  that  it  was 
a  strange  thing  in  him  to  talk  to  lier  so,  when  she  had  broken 
every  law  of  God  and  man,  to  marry  the " 

"The ?"  Mohun  repeated,  bending  forward. 

"The  murderer  of  her  father,  she  said,  sir,"  returned  Amanda. 

Mohun  started,  and  looked  with  a  strange  expression  at  me. 

"You  understand!"  he  said,  in  a  low  tone,  "is  the  thing 
credible?" 

"  Let  us  hear  more,"  I  said,  gloomy  in  spite  of  myself. 


356  MOnUN 


u 


Go  on,"  Mohnn  said,  turning  more  calmly  toward  the 
'W'oman  ;  "  that  was  the  reply  of  the  lady,  then — that  she  had 
broken  all  the  laws  of  God  and  man  by  marrying  the  murderer 
of  her  father.     Did  she  utter  the  name  of  her  father?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"What  was  it?" 

"A  Mr.  George  Conway,"  replied  Amanda,  who  seemed  to 
feel  that  she  had  gone  too  far  to  conceal  any  thing. 

"And  the  reason  for  this  marriage?"  said  Mohun,  in  alow  tone; 
"did  she  explain,  or  say  any  thing  which  explained  to  you,  how 
such  a  union  had  ever  taken  place?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  They  said  so  many  things  to  each  other,  that  I 
came  to  know  all.  The  young  lady  was  a  daughter  of  a  Mr. 
George  Conway,  and  when  she  was  a  girl,  had  fallen  in  love  with 
some  worthless  young  man,  who  had  persuaded  her  to  elope  with 
him  and  get  married.  He  soon  deserted  her,  when  she  fell  in 
with  this  Mr.  Mortimer  and  married  him." 

"Did  she  know  that  he  was  her  father's  murderer?" 

"  Xo,  sir — not  until  after  their  marriage,  I  gathered." 

"Then,"  said  Mohun,  who  had  suppressed  all  indications  of 
emotion,  and  was  listening  coolly ;  "then  it  seems  to  me  that  she 
was  wrong  in  taking  shame  to  herself — or  claiming  credit — for 
the  marriage." 

"Yes,  sir,"  returned  Amanda,  "and  he  told  her  as  much." 

"So  they  had  something  like  a  quarrel?" 

"  Not  exactly  a  quarrel,  sir.  He  seemed  to  love  her  with  all 
his  heart — more  than  she  loved  him.  They  went  on  talking,  and 
laying  plans  to  make  money  in  some  way.  I  remember  he  said 
to  her,  '  You  are  sick,  and  need  every  luxury — I  would  rather 
die  than  see  you  deprived  of  them — I  would  cheat  or  rob  to 
supply  you  every  thing — and  we  must  think  of  some  means, 
honest  or  dishonest,  to  get  the  money  we  want.  I  do  not  care  for 
myself,  but  you  are  all  that  I  have  left  in  the  world.'  That  is 
what  he  said,  sir." 

And  Amanda  was  silent. 

"They  then  fell  asleep?"  asked  Mohun. 

"Yes,  sir;  and  on  the  next  morning  he  took  her  in  his  arms 
again,  and  carried  her  to  the  carriage,  and  they  left  me." 


DEEP    UNDER    DEEP.  357 

Mohim  leaned  liis  cliin  upon  his  hand,  knit  his  hrows,  and 
reflected.  The  singular  narrative  plunged  me  too  into  a  reverie. 
Tliis  man,  Darke,  was  a  veritable  gulf  of  mystery — his  life  full  of 
hidden  and  inexplicable  thii:gs.  The  son  of  General  Davenant, 
he  had  murdered  his  father's  foe;  permitted  that  father  to  he 
tried  for  the  crime,  and  to  remain  under  suspicion ;  disappeared, 
changed  his  name,  encountered  the  daughter  of  his  victim,  mar- 
ried her,  had  those  mysterious  dealings  with  Mohun,  disappeared 
a  second  time,  changed  his  name  a  second  time,  and  now  had 
once  more  made  his  appearance  near  the  scene  of  his  first  crime, 
to  murder  Swartz,  capture  his  father  and  brother,  and  complete 
his  tragic  record  by  fighting  under  the  enemy's  flag  against  his 
country  and  his  familv! 

There  was  something  diabolical  in  that  career;  in  this  man's 
life  "deep  under  deep"  met  the  eye.  And  yet  he  was  not  entirely 
bad.  On  that  night  in  Pennsylvania,  he  had  refused  to  strike 
Mohun  at  a  disadvantage — and  had  borne  off  the  gray  woman  at 
the  peril  of  death  or  capture.  He  had  released  his  captured 
father  and  brother,  bowing  his  head  before  them.  He  had  con- 
fessed the  murder  of  George  Conway,  over  his  own  signature,  to 
save  this  father.  The  woman  Avho  was  his  accomplice,  he  seemed 
to  love  more  than  his  own  life.  Such  were  the  extraordinary 
contrasts  in  a  character,  which,  at  first  sight,  seemed  entirely 
devilish  ;  and  I  reflected  with  absorbing  interest  upon  the  singu- 
lar phenomenon. 

I  was  aroused  by  the  voice  of  Mohun.  He  had  never  appear- 
ed more  calm  :  In  his  deep  tones  I  could  discern  no  emotion  what- 
ever. 

"  That  is  a  singular  story,"  he  said,  "  and  your  friend.  Colonel 
Darke,  is  a  curious  personage.  But  let  us  come  back  to  events 
more  recent — to  the  visits  of  Swartz." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Amanda,  smiling. 

"  But,  first,  let  me  ask — did  Colonel  Darke  recognize  you  ?" 

"  You  mean  Tcnow  me?     Oh,  yes,  sir." 

"  And  did  he  speak  of  his  former  visit — with  his  wife?" 

"No,  sir." 

"And  you ?" 

Amanda  smiled. 


358  MOHUN-. 

"  I  made  out  I  didn't  remember  him,  sir;  I  was  afraid  he  would 
think  I  had  overlieard  that  talk  with  iiis  wife." 

"  So  he  simply  called  as  if  to  see  you  as  a  curiosity?" 

"Yes,  sir — and  staid  only  a  few  minutes." 

"  But  you  know  or  rather  knew  poor  Swartz  better  ?"       * 

"  I  knew  him  well,  sir." 

"  He  often  stopped  here  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir," 

Mohun  looked  at  the  woman  keenly,  and  said  : — 

"  I  wish  you,  now,  to  answer  plainly  tlie  question  which  T  am 
about  to  ask.  I  come  hither  as  a  friend — I  am  sent  by  your 
friend  Mr.  Xighthawk.  Listen  and  answer  honestlv — Do  vou 
know  any  thing  of  a  paper  which  Swartz  had  in  his  possession — 
an  important  paper  which  he  was  guarding  from  Colonel 
Darke?" 

'•  I  do  not,  sir,"  said  Amanda,  with  her  eternal  smile. 

"  For  that  paper  I  will  pay  a  thousand  dollars  in  gold.  Where 
is  it?" 

The  woman's  eyes  glittered,  then  she  shook  her  head. 

"  On  my  salvation  I  do  not  know,  sir." 

"  Can  you  discover?" 

Again  the  shake  of  the  head. 

"  How  can  I,  sir  ?" 

Mohun's  head  sank.  A  bitter  sigh  issued  from  his  lips — almost 
a  groan. 

"  Listen  !"  he  said,  almost  fiercely,  but  with  a  singular  smile, 
"you  have  visions — you  see  things!  I  do  not  believe  in  your 
visions — they  seem  folly — but  only  sec  where  that  paper  is  to  be 
dicovered,  and  I  will  believe  I  nay  more,  I  will  pay  you  the  sum 
which  I  mentioned  this  moment." 

I  looked  at  the  woman  to  witness  the  result  of  this  decisive  test 
of  her  sincerity.  "If  she  believes  in  her  own  visions,  she  will 
be  elated,"  I  said,  "  if  she  is  an  impostor,  she  will  be  cast 
down." 

She  smiled  radiantly  I 

"  I  will  try,  sir!"  she  said. 

Mohun  gazed  at  her  strangely. 

"  When  shall  I  come  to  hear  the  result?" 


THE    [MOMENT    AT    LAST    CAME.  359 

"  In  ten  days  from  this  time,  sir." 

"  In  ten  days  ?     So  be  it." 

And  rising,  Mohun  bade  the  singular  personage  farewell,  and 
went  toward  his  liorse. 

I  followed,  and  we  rode  back,  rapidly,  in  dead  silence,  toward 
the  Rowanty. 


XII. 

HOW  THE  MOMENT  AT  LAST  CAME. 

MoHUN  rode  on  for  more  than  a  mile  at  full  gallop,  without 
nttering  a  word.  Then  he  turned  his  head,  and  said,  with  a 
sigh : — 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  your  new  acquaintance,  Surry?" 

"  I  think  she  is  an  impostor." 

"As  to  her  visions,  you  mean  ?" 

"  Yes.     Her  story  of  Darke  I  believe  to  be  true." 

"  And  I  know  it,"  returned  Mohun.  "  A  strange  discovery,  is  it 
not?  I  went  there  to-day,  without  dreaming  of  this.  Night- 
hawk  informed  me  that  Swartz  had  often  been  at  the  house  of 
this  woman — that  the  paper  which  I  wish  to  secure  might  have 
been  left  with  her  for  safe  keeping — and  thus  I  determined  to  go 
and  ferret  out  the  matter,  in  a  personal  interview.  I  have  done  so, 
pretty  thoroughly,  and  it  seems  plain  that  she  knows  nothing  of 
its  present  whereabouts.  Will  she  discover  through  her  visions 
— her  spies — or  her  strange  penetration,  exhibited  in  the  recogni- 
tion of  our  persons?  I  know  not;  and  so  that  matter  ends.  I 
have  failed,  and  yet  have  learned  some  singular  facts.  Can  you 
believe  that  strange  story  of  Darke?  Is  he  not  a  weird  person- 
age? This  narrative  we  have  just  heard  puts  the  finisliing  touch 
to  his  picture — the  mnrderer  marries  the  daughter  of  his  vic- 
tim!" 

"It  is  truly  an  extraordinary  history  altogether,"  I  said,  "  and 
the  whole  life  of  this  man  is  now  known  to  me,  with  a  single 
exceptionr." 


360  MOHUN. 

"  Ah!  you  mean ?" 

**  The  period  when  you  fought  with  him,  and  ran  him  thronc:h 
the  body,  and  threw  him  into  that  grave,  from  whicli  Swartz 
afterward  rescued  him  on  the  morning  of  the  13tli  December, 
1856. 

Moliun  looked  at  me  with  that  clear  and  penetrating  glance 
which  characterized  him. 

"Ah!  you  know  that!"  he  said. 

"  I  could  not  fail  to  know  it,  Mohun." 

"  True — and  to  think  that  all  this  time  you  have,  perhaps,  re- 
garded me  as  a  criminal,  Surry !  But  I  am  one — that  is  I  was — 
in  intent  if  not  in  reality.  Yes,  my  dear  friend,"  Mohun  added, 
with  a  deep  sigh,  his  head  sinking  upon  his  breast,  "  there  was 
a  day  in  my  life  when  I  was  insane,  a  simple  madman, — and  on 
that  day  I  attempted  to  commit  murder,  and  suicide  !  You  have 
strangely  come  to  catch  many  glimpses  of  those  past  horrors. 
On  the  Rappahannock  the  words  of  that  woman  must  have  startled 
you.  In  the  "Wilderness  my  colloquy  with  the  spy  revealed  more. 
Lastly,  the  words  of  Darke  on  the  night  of  Swartz's  hiurder  must 
liave  terribly  complicated  me  in  this  tissue  of  horrors.  I  knew 
that  you  must  know  much,  and  I  did  not  shrink  before  you, 
Surry  !  Do  you  know  why  ?  Because  I  have  repented,  friend  1 
and  thank  God  I  my  evil  passions  did  not  result,  as  I  intended, 
in  murder  and  self-destruction  !" 

Mohun  passed  his  hand  across  his  forehead,  to  wipe  away  the 
drops  of  cold  perspiration. 

"  All  this  is  gloomy  and  tragic,"  he  said  ;  "  and  yet  I  must  in- 
flict it  on  you,  Surry.  Even  more,  I  earnestly  long  to  tell  you 
the  whole  story  of  which  you  have  caught  these  glimpses.  Will 
you  listen  ?  It  will  not  be  long.  I  wish  to  show  you,  my  dear 
friend — vou  are  that  to  me,  Surrv  ! — that  I  am  not  unworthv  of 
your  regard ;  that  there  are  no  degrading  scenes,  at  least,  in  my 
past  life ;  that  I  have  not  cheated,  tricked,  deceived — even  if  I 
have  attempted  to  destrov  mvself  and  others  !     Will  vou  listen  ?" 

"I  have  been  waiting  long  to  do  so,  Mohun,"  I  said.  "Speak, 
but  first  hear  me.  There  is  a  man  in  this  army  who  is  the  soul 
of  honor.  Since  my  father's  death  I  value  his  good  opinion 
more  than  that  of  all  others — it  is  Robert  E.  Lee.     Well,  come 


FONTHILL.  361 

"with  me  if  you  choose,  and  I  will  go  to  Lee  with  you,  and  place 
my  hand  upon  your  shoulder,  and  say  :  '  General,  this  is  my  friend ! 
I  vouch  for  hira  ;  I  am  proud  of  his  regard.  Think  well  of  him, 
or  badly  of  me  too  !'     Are  you  satisfied  ?" 

Mohun  smiled  sadly. 

"  I  knew  all  that,"  he  said.  "Do  you  think  I  can  not  read 
men,  Surry  ?  Long  since  I  gave  you  in  my  heart  the  name  of 
friend^  and  I  knew  that  you  had  done  as  much  toward  me. 
Come,  then !  Go  to  my  camp  with  me ;  in  the  evening  we  will 
take  a  ride.  I  am  going  to  conduct  you  to  a  spot  where  we  can 
talk  without  interruption,  the  exact  place  where  the  crimes  of 
which  I  shall  speak  were  committed." 

And  resuming  the  gallop,  Mohun  led  the  way,  amid  the  trailing 
festoons,  through  the  fallen  logs,  across  the  Rowanty. 

Half  an  hour  afterward  we  had  reached  his  camp. 

As  the  sun  began  to  decline  we  again  mounted  our  horses. 

Pushing  on  rapidly  we  reached  a  large  house  on  a  hill  above 
the  ISTottoway,  and  entered  the  tall  gateway  at  the  moment  when 
the  great  windows  were  all  ablaze  in  the  sunset. 


XIII. 

FONTHILL. 


Mohun  spurred  up  the  hill ;  reined  in  his  horse  in  front  of  the 
great  portico,  and,  dismounting,  fastened  his  bridle  to  the  bough 
of  a  magnificent  exotic,  one  of  a  hundred  which  were  scattered 
over  the  extensive  grounds. 

I  imitated  him,  and  we  entered  the  house  together,  through  the 
door,  which  gave  way  at  the  first  push.  No  one  had  come  to 
take  our  horses.  No  one  opposed  our  entrance.  The  house  was 
evidently  deserted. 

I  looked  round  in  astonishment  and  admiration.  In  every  thing 
appertaining  to  the  mansion  were  the  indications  of  almost  unlim- 
ited  wealth,   directed  by  the   severest  and   most  elegant   taste. 


362  MOHU^^ 

The  broken  furniture  was  lieavy  and  elaborately  carved  ;  the 
remnants  of  carpet  of  sumptuous  velvet ;  the  walls,  ceiling,  door- 
ways, and  deep  windows  were  one  mass  of  the  richest  chiselling 
and  most  elaborate  fresco-painting. 

On  the  walls  still  hung  some  faded  portraits  in  the  most  costly 
frames.  On  the  mantel-pieces  of  variegated  marble,  supported 
by  fluted  pillars,  with  exquisitely  carved  capitals,  rested  a  full 
length  picture  of  a  gentleman,  the  heavy  gilt  frame  tarnished  and 
crumbling. 

The  house  was  desolate,  deserted,  inexpressibly  saddening  from 
the  evident  contrast  between  its  present  and  its  past.  But  about 
the  grand  mansion  hung  an  august  air  of  departed  splendor 
■which  to  me,  was  more  striking  than  if  I  had  visited  it  in  the 
days  of  its  glory. 

"Let  me  introduce  'FonthilF  to  you,  or  rather  the  remains  of 
it,  Surry,"  Mohun  said,  with  a  sad  smile.  "It  is  not  pleasant  to 
bring  a  friend  to  so  deserted  a  place  ;  but  I  have  long  been 
absent;  the  house  is  gone  to  decay  like  other  things  in  old  Vir- 
ginia. Still  we  can  probably  find  two  chairs.  I  will  kindle^ 
a  blaze,  and  we  can  light  a  cigar  and  talk  without  interrup- 
tion." 

With  these  words,  Mohun  proceeded  to  the  adjoining  apart- 
ment, from  which  he  returned  a  moment  afterward,  dragging  two 
chairs  with  elaborately  carved  backs. 

"See,"  he  said,  with  a  smile,  "they  were  handsome  once. 
That  one  with  the  ragged  remnants  of  red  velvet  was  my  father's. 
Take  a  seat,  my  dear  Surry.  I  will  sit  in  the  other— it  was  my 
mother's." 

Returning  to  the  adjoining  room,  Mohun  again  reappeared,  this 
time  bearing  in  his  arms  the  broken  remnants  of  a  mahogany 
tuble,  which  he  heaped  up  in  the  great  fireplace. 

"This  is  all  that  remains  of  our  old  family  dining-table,''  he 
said.  "  Some  Yankee  or  straggling  soldier  will  probably  use  it 
for  this  purpose — so  I  anticipate  them!" 

And,  placing  combustibles  beneath  the  pile,  Mohun  had  recourse 
to  the  metallic  match  case  which  he  always  carried  with  him  in 
order  to  read  disi)atches,  lit  the  fuel,  and  a  blaze  sprung  up. 

Next,  he  produced  his  cigar  case,  oflfered  me  an  excellent  Ha- 


"LORD    OF    HIMSELF."  363 

vana,  which  I  ^accepted,  and  a  minute  afterward  we  were  leaning" 
back  in  the  great  chairs,  smoking. 

"An  odd  welcome,  tliis,"  said  Mohun,  with  his  sad  smile; 
"  broken  chairs,  old  pictures,  and  a  fire  made  of  rained  furniture  ! 
But  one  thing  we  have— an  uninterrupted  opportunity  to  con- 
verse. Let  us  talk,  therefore,  or  rather,  I  will  at  once  telJ  you 
what  I  promised." 


XIV. 

"LORD   OF   HIMSELF,    THAT   HERITAGE   OF   WOE." 

MoHTJX  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  reflected  for  a  moment  with 
evident  sadness,  and  then,  with  a  deep  sigh,  said : — 
•  "I  am  about  to  relate  to  you,  my  dear  Surry,  a  history  so  sin- 
gular, that  it  is  probable  you  will  think  I  am  indulging  my  fancy, 
in  certain  portions  of  it.  That  would  be  an  injustice.  It  is  a  true 
life  I  am  about  to  lay  before  you— and  I  need  not  add  that  actual 
occurrences  are  often  more  surprising  than  any  due  to  the  imagi- 
nation of  the  romance  writer.  I  once  knew  a  celebrated  novel- 
ist, and  one  day  related  to  him  the  curious  history  of  a  family  in 
Virginia.  '  Make  a  romance  of  that,'  I  said,  '  it  is  an  actual  his- 
tory.' But  my  friend  shook  his  head.  '  It  will  not  answer  my 
purpose,'  he  replied,  smiling,  'it  is  too  strange,  and  the  critics 
would  call  me  a  "sensation  writer"— that  is,  ruin  me!'  And  he 
was  right,  Surry.  It  is  only  to  a  friend,  on  some  occasion  like  the 
present,  that  I  could  tell  my  own  story.  It  is  too  singular  to  be 
believed  otherwise. 

"  But  I  am  prosing.  Let  me  proceed.  My  family  is  an  old  one, 
they  tell  me,  in  this  part  of  Virginia ;  and  my  father,  whose 
portrait  you  see  before  you,  on  the  mantel-piece,  was  what  is 
called  an  'aristocrat.'  That  is  to  say,  he  was  a  gentleman  of 
refined  tastes  and  habits;  fond  of  books;  a  great  admirer  of  fine 
paintings;  and  a  gentleman  of  social  habits  and  feelings.  'Font- 
hill' — this  old  house— had  been,  for  many  generations,  the  scene 


364  MOHUN. 

of  a  profuse  hospitality;  my  father  kept  up  the  ancient  rites,  en- 
tertaining all  comers;  and  when  I  grew  to  boyhood  I  unconsciously 
imbibed  the  feelings,  and  clung  to  the  traditions  of  the  family. 
These  traditions  may  be  summed  up  in  the  maxims  which  my 
father  taught  me — '  Use  hospitality  ;  be  courteous  to  high  and 
low  alike;  assist  the  poor;  succor  the  unhappy;  give  bounti- 
fully without  grudging;  and  enjoy  the  goods  heaven  provides  you, 
with  a  clear  conscience,  whether  you  are  called  an  aristocrat  or  a 
democrat!'  Such  were  my  father's  teachings;  and  he  practised 
them,  for  he  had  the  kindest  and  sweetest  heart  in  the  world.  lie 
was  aided  in  all  by  my  mother,  a  perfect  saint  upon  earth  ;  and 
if  I  have  since  that  time  given  way  to  rude  passions,  it  was  not  for 
wanting  a  good  example  in  the  blameless  lives  of  this  true  gentle- 
man and  pure  gentlewoman. 

"  Unhappily,  I  did  not  have  their  example  long.  When  I  was 
seventeen  my  mother  died ;  and  my  father,  as  though  unable  to 
live  without  her  who  had  so  long  been  his  blessing,  followed  her 
a  year  afterward,  leaving  me  the  sole  heir  of  the  great  possessions- 
of  the  familv.  For  a  time  grief  crushed  me.  I  was  alone — for  I 
had  neither  brother  nor  sister — a  solitary  youth  in  this  great 
lonely  house,  standing  isolated  amid  its  twenty  thousand  acres — 
and  even  the  guardian  who  had  been  appointed  to  look  after  my 
affairs,  seldom  came  to  see  me  and  relieve  my  loneliness.  The 
only  associate  I  had  was  a  sort  of  bailiff  or  steward,  Nighthawk — 
you  know  him,  and  his  attachment  for  me.  It  was  hereditary — 
this  attachment.  My  father  had  loved  and  trusted  his  ;  relieved 
the  necessities  of  the  humble  familv  once  when  thev  were  about 
to  be  turned  adrift  for  debt  The  elder  ISTighthawk  then  conceived 
a  profound  affection  for  his  benefactor — and  dying,  left  to  his  son 
the  injunction  to  watch  over  and  serve  faithfully  the  son  of  his 
'  old  master.' 

"  Do  not  laugh  at  that  word,  Surry.  It  is  the  old  English  term, 
and  England  is  best  of  all,  I  think.  So  Nighthawk  came  to  live 
with  me,  and  take  care  of  my  interests.  You  know  that  he  has 
continued  to  be  faithful,  and  to  serve  me,  and  love  me,  to  this 
moment. 

"  But  in  spite  of  the  presence  of  this  true  friend,  I  was  still 
lonely.     I  craved  life,  movement,  company — and  this  I  promised 


THE    STOKM.  365 

myself  to  secure  at  the  university  of  Virginia,  to  wliich  I  accord- 
ingly went,  spending  there  the  greater  portion  of  ray  time  until  I 
had  reached  the  age  of  twenty.  Then  I  returned  to  Fonthill — only 
to  find,  however,  that  the  spot  was  more  dreary  than  before.  I  was 
the  master  of  a  great  estate,  but  alone ;  '  lord  of  myself,'  I  found, 
like  the  unhappy  Childe  Harold,  and  Randolph  of  Roanoke  after 
him,  that  it  was  a  'heritage  of  woe.'  There  was  little  or  no  society 
in  the  neighborhood — at  least  suited  to  my  age — I  lived  a  solitary, 
secluded,  dormant  existence ;  and  events  soon  proved  that  this 
life  had  prepared  my  character  for  some  violent  passion.  A  phi- 
losopher could  have  foretold  that.  Every  thing  in  excess  brings 
on  reaction.  The  drunkard  may  abstain  long,  but  the  moment 
he  touches  spirit,  an  orgy  commences.  Men  love,  because  the 
time  and  a  woman  have  come — and  that  hour  and  person  came 
all  at  once  to  arouse  me  from  mv  lethars^v. 

"  One  day  I  was  inert,  apathetic,  sluggish  in  ray  raovements, 
careless  of  all  things  and  all  persons  around  rae.  On  the  next  I 
was  aroused,  excited,  with  every  nerve  and  faculty  strung.  I 
was  becoming  suddenly  intoxicated,  and  soon  the  drunkenness 
of  love  had  absorbed  all  the  powers  of  my  being. 

"You  know  who  aroused  that  infatuation,  the  daughter  of 
George  Conway." 


XV. 

THE    STORM. 

"  At  that  time  she  was  called  Miss  Mortimer.  The  commence- 
ment of  our  acquaintance  was  singular.  Fate  seemed  to  have 
decreed  that  all  connected  with  our  relations  should  be  '  dra- 
matic' 

"One  night  I  was  returning  at  full  speed  from  the  house  of  a 
gentleman  in  the  neighborhood,  whither  I  had  been  to  make  a 
visit.  The  night  was  as  dark  as  a  wolf's  mouth,  and  a  violent 
storm  rushed  down  upon  me,  when  I  was  still  many  miles  from 
home.     I  have  scarcely  ever  witnessed  a  more  furious  tempest ;. 


aeo  MonuN. 

the  thunder  and  lightning  were  fearful,  and  I  pushed  mr  horse 
to  his  utmost  speed  to  reach  Fonthill  before  the  torrents  of  rain 
drenched  me  to  the  skin. 

"  "Well,  I  had  entered  the  Fonthill  woods,  a  mile  or  two  from  the 
house,  and  was  galloping  at  fall  speed  through  the  black  darkness 
which  the  lightning  only  occasionally  illumined  now,  when  all  at 
once  my  horse  struck  his  chest  against  something.  I  heard  a  cry, 
and  then  a  dazzling  flash  showed  me  a  light  carriage  which  had 
evidently  just  been  overturned.  I  was  nearly  unseated  by  the 
collision,  but  leaped  to  the  ground,  and  at  the  same  moment  an- 
other flash  showed  me  the  form  of  a  lady  whom  a  man  was  ex- 
tricating from  the  broken  vehicle.  I  hastened  to  render  my 
assistance.  The  lady  was  lifted  in  our  arms,  and  then  I  aided  in 
raising  the  fjillen  horse,  who  lay  on  his  side,  frightened  and 
kicking  violently. 

"  Ten  minutes  afterward  I  was  placed  in  possession  of  what 
the  lawyers  call  'the  facts  of  the  case.'  Mr.  Mortimer,  of 
Georgia,  was  travelling  home  from  the  North,  with  his  sick  sister 
in  his  carriage,  for  the  benefit  of  her  health.  They  had  lost  their 
way;  the  storm  had  caught  them  ;  their  carriage  had  overturned 
in  the  darkness, — where  could  Mr.  Mortimer  obtain  lodgings  for 
the  night  ?  The  condition  of  his  sister  rendered  it  imperative 
that  they  should  not  continue  their  journey  until  morning,  even 
if  the  storm  and  broken  vehicle  permitted. 

"  I  listened,  and  felt  a  warm  sympathy  for  the  poor  sick  girl — 
she  was  only  a  girl  of  eighteen,  and  very  beautiful.  I  would 
gladly  have  oftered  my  own  house,  but  it  was  still  some  miles 
distant,  and  the  young  woman  was  so  weak,  and  trembled  so  vio- 
lently, that  it  would  plainly  be  impossible  to  conduct  her  so  far 
on  foot.  True,  my  carriage  might  have  been  sent  for  her,  but  the 
rain  was  now  descending  in  torrents ;  before  it  arrived  she  would 
be  drenched — something  else  must  be  thought  of.  All  at  once 
the  idea  occurred  to  me,  '  Parson  Hope's  is  only  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  distant.'  Mr.  Hope  was  the  parson  of  the  parish,  and  a 
most  excellent  man.  I  at  once  suggested  to  Mr.  Mortimer  that 
his  sister  should  be  conducted  thither,  and  as  he  assented  at  once, 
we  half  conducted,  half  carried  the  poor  girl  through  the  woods 
to  the  humble  dwelling  of  the  clergyman. 


ACT   I.  367 

"The  good  parson  received  us  in  a  manner  which  showed 
his  conviction  that  to  succor  the  stranger  or  the  unfortunate  is 
often  to  'entertain  angels  unawares.'  It  is  true  that  on  this 
occasion  it  was  something  like  a  brace  of  devils  whom  he  re- 
ceived into  his  mansion !  The  young  lady  threw  herself  into  a 
seat ;  seemed  to  suffer  much ;  and  was  soon  conducted  by  the 
parson's  old  housekeeper — for  he  was  a  childless  widower — to  her 
chamber  in  which  a  fire  had  been  quickly  kindled.  She  disap- 
peared, sighing  faintly,  but  in  those  few  minutes  I  had  taken  a 
good  look  at  her.  You  have  seen  her;  and  I  need  not  describe 
her.  She  is  still  of  great  beauty;  but  at  that  time  she  was  a 
wonder  of  loveliness.  Slender,  graceful,  with  a  figure  exquisitely 
shaped;  with  rosy  lips  as  artless  as  an  infant's;  grand  dark  eyes 
which  seemed  to  burn  with  an  inner  light  as  she  looked  at  you; 
such  was  Miss  Mortimer  at  eighteen,  when  I  first  saw  her  on  that 
night  in  the  Fonthill  woods." 


XYI. 

ACT  I. 

"  An  hour  after  the  scene  which  I  have  tried  to  describe,  I  was 
at  home ;  and,  seated  in  this  apartment,  then  very  different  in 
appearance,  reflected  deeply  upon  this  romantic  encounter  with 
the  beautiful  sirl. 

"  It  was  midnight  before  I  retired.  I  fell  asleep  thinking  of 
her,  and  the  exquisite  face  still  followed  me  in  my  dreams. 

"  These  few  words  tell  you  much,  do  they  not,  Surry?  You 
no  doubt  begin  to  understand,  now,  when  I  have  scarcelv  besrun 
the  real  narrative,  what  is  going  to  be  the  character  of  the 
drama.     "Were  I  a  romance  writer,  I  should  call  vour  attention 

7  1 

to  the  fact  that  I  have  introduced  my  characters,  described  their 
appearance,  and  given  you  an  inkling  of  the  series  of  events 
which  are  about  to  be  unrolled  before  you.  A  young  man  of  twent)i 
is  commended  to  your  attention  ;  a  youth  living  in  a  great  raan- 

16 


368  MOHUy. 

sion;  lord  of  himself,  but  tired  of  exercising  that  authority;  of 
violent  passions,  but  without  an  object;  and  at  that  very  moment, 
presto  !  appeared  a  lovely  girl,  with  dark  eyes,  rosy  lips  ;  wlioin  tlie 
youth  encounters  and  rescues  under  most  romantic  circumstances! 

"  Well,  the  'lord  of  himself '  acted  in  real  life  as  he  wouhl 
have  done  in  a  novel.  In  other  Avords,  my  dear  Surry,  I  pro- 
ceeded straightway  to  fall  violently  in  love  with  Miss  Mortimer ; 
and  it  is  needless  to  say  that  on  the  next  day  my  horse  might  have 
been  seen  standing  at  the  rack  of  the  parsonage.  I  had  gone,  you 
see,  as  politeness  required,  to  ask  how  the  young  lady  felt  after 
her  accident. 

"  She  was  leaning  back  in  an  arm-chair,  reading  a  '  good  book,' 
and  looked  charming.  The  accident  seemed  to  have  greatly 
shocked  the  delicate  frame  of  the  young  creature,  but  when  I 
entered,  she  held  out  her  hand,  greeting  me  with  a  fascinating 
smile.  Mademoiselle  was  imitated  by  Monsieur.  I  mean  Mr. 
Mortimer.  I  did  not  fancy  the  countenance  of  that  gentleman 
much.  It  was  dark  and  forbidden,  but  his  manners  were  those 
of  a  person  acquainted  with  good  society ;  he  thanked  me  '  with 
etfusion,'  as  the  French  say,  for  my  timely  assistance  on  the  night 
before  ;  and  then  he  strolled  forth  with  the  good  parson  to  look 
at  the  garden,  leaving  me  tete-a-tete  with  his  sister. 

''  Why  lengthen  out  my  story  by  comment,  reflections,  a  de- 
scription of  every  scene,  and  the  progressive  steps  through  which 
the  'affair'  passed?  I  was  in  love  with  Miss  Mortimer.  She 
saw  it.  Her  eyes  said,  'Love  me  as  much  as  you  choose,  and 
don't  be  afraid  I  will  not  love  you  soon,  in  return.'  At  the 
end  of  this  interview,  which  the  worthy  Mr.  Mortimer  did  not 
interrupt  for  at  least  two  hours,  I  rode  home  thinking  with  a 
throb  of  the  heart  '  If  she  will  only  love  me  V  Then  the  throb 
was  succeeded  by  a  sudden  sinking  of  the  same  organ.  '  But 
there  will  be  no  opportunity!'  I  groaned,  'doubtless  in  two  or 
three  daj^s  she  will  leave  this  part  of  the  country!'  A  week 
afterward  that  apprehension  had  been  completely  removed.  Miss 
Mortimer  was  still  faint  and  weak,  'from  her  accident.'  All  her 
movements  were  slow  and  languid.  She  had  not  left  the  good 
parson's  house,  Surry — and  what  is  more  she  was  not  going  to 
leave  it!     She  had  learned  what  she  desired  to  know  about  me; 


ACT    I.  369 

heard  that  I  was  a  young  man  of  great  wealth  ;  and  had  devised 
a  scheme  so  singular  that — but  let  me  not  anticipate  !  She  pro- 
ceeded rapidly.  In  our  second  interview  slie  '  made  eyes  at  me.' 
In  the  third,  she  blushed  and  murmured,  avoiding  ray  glances, 
when  T  looked  at  her.  In  the  fourth,  she  blushed  more  deeply 
when  I  took  her  hand — but  did  not  withdraw  it.  In  the  fifth, 
the  fair  head  in  some  manner  had  come  to  rest  on  my  shoulder 
— no  doubt  from  weakness.  And  in  a  few  days  afterward  the 
shy,  embarrassed,  loving,  palpitating  creature,  blushing  deeply, 
'sunk  upon  my  bosom,'  as  the  poets  say,  and  murmured,  'How 
can  I  resist  you  ?' 

"  In  other  words,  my  dear  friend,  ALiss  Jlor timer  had  promised 
to  become  my  wife^  and  I  need  not  say,  I  was  the  happiest  of 
men.  I  thought  with  rapture  of  the  bliss  I  was  about  to  enjoy  in. 
having  by  ray  side,  throughout  life,  this  charming  creature.  I 
trembled  at  the  very  thought  that  the  accident  in  the  wood  might 
not  have  happened,  and  I  might  never  have  known  her!  I  was 
at  the  parsonage  morning,  noon,  and  night.  When  not  beside 
her  I  was  riding  through  the  forest  at  full  speed,  with  bared 
brow,  laughing  lips,  and  shouts  of  joy — in  a  word,  my  dear  friend, 
I  was  as  much  intoxicated  as  ever  youth  was  yet,  and  fed  on  froth 
and  moonshine  to  an  extent  that  was  really  astonishing ! 

"  There  was  absolutely  nothing  to  oppose  our  marriage.  My 
old  guardian,  it  is  true,  shook  his  head,  and  suggested  inquiries 
into  the  family,  position,  character,  etc.,  of  the  Mortimers  ;  I  was 
young,  wealthy,  heir  of  one  of  the  oldest  families,  he  said,  and 
sharpers  might  deceive  me.  But  all  I  heard  was  the  word 
'sharpers' — and  I  left  ray  guardian,  whose  functions  had  ceased 
now,  in  high  displeasure  at  his  unworthy  imputations.  That 
angel  a  sharper !  That  pure,  devoted  creature,  guilty  of  decep- 
tion I  I  fell  into  a  rage ;  swore  never  to  visit  ray  guardian  again ; 
and  returning  to  the  parsonage  urged  a  speedy  consummation  of 
our  marriage. 

"  The  fair  one  was  not  loth.  She  indicated  that  fact  by  vio- 
lently opposing  me  at  first,  but  soon  yielded.  "When  I  rode  home 
that  night  I  had  made  every  arrangement  for  our  union  in  one 
month  from  that  time. 

"  So  much  for  Act  I.,  Surry  1" 


3Y0  MOHUN. 

XVIT. 

THE    WILL. 

MonuN  had  commenced  his  narrative  in  a  mihl  voice,  and  with 
an  expression  of  great  sadness  upon  his  featnres.  As  he  pro- 
ceeded, however,  this  all  disappeared;  gradually  the  voice  be- 
came harsh  and  metallic,  so  to  describe  it,  and  his  face  resumed, 
that  expression  of  cynical  bitterness  which  I  had  observed  in  him 
on  our  first  meeting.  As  he  returned  thus,  to  the  past,  all  its 
bitterness  seemed  to  revive  ;  memory  lashed  him  with  its  sting- 
ing whip;  and  Mohun  had  gone  back  to  his  "first  phase," — • 
that  of  the  man,    stern,  implacable,  and  misanthropic. 

After  uttering  the  words,  "So  much  for  Act  I.,  Surrvl"  he 
paused.  A  moment  afterward,  however,  he  resumed  his  narra- 
tive. 

"  Wliat  I  am  now  going  to  tell  you  is  not  agreeable  to  remem- 
ber, my  dear  Surry,  and  I  shall  accordingly  relate  every  thing  as 
briefly  as  possible.  I  aim  only  to  give  you  a  clear  conception  of 
the  tragedy.     You  will  form  your  own  opinion. 

''I  was  impolite  enough  in  introducing  Miss  Mortimer  to  you,  at 
the  parsonage,  to  describe  that  young  lady  as  a  '  devil.'  No 
doubt  the  term  shocked  you,  and  yet  it  conveyed  something  very 
like  the  exact  truth.  I  declare  to  vou  that  this  woman  was,  and 
is  still,  a  marvel  to  me,  a  most  curious  study.  How  could  she 
be  such  as  she  was?  She  had  the  lips  of  an  infant,  and  the  eyes 
of  an  angel.  Was  it  not  strange  that,  nnder  all  that,  she  should 
hide  the  heart  of  a  born  devil  ?     But  to  continue  my  narrative. 

"The  month  or  two  which  elapsed  between  my  engagement 
and  my  marriage  was  not  an  uninterrupted  dream  of  bliss.  Tiie 
atmosphere  was  strangely  disturbed  on  more  that  one  occasion. 
Mademoiselle  was  frequently  absent  from  the  parsonage  Avhen  I 
arrived,  taking  long  walks  with  Monsieur,  her  brother  ;  and  when 
she  returned  from  these  excursions,  I  could  see  a  very  strange 
expression  on  her  countenance  as  she  looked  at  me.  Occasionally 
her  glance  was  like  those  lurid  flashes  of  lighting  which  you  may 
have  seen  issue  from  the  depths  of  a  black  cloud.     Her  black  eyes 


THE     WILL.  371 

■were  the  cloud — admire  the  simile  I — and  I  assure  you  their 
expression  at  such  moments  was  far  from  agreeable.  What  to 
make  of  it,  I  knew  not.  I  am  not  constitutionally  irritable,  but 
on  more  than  one  occasion  I  felt  a  strange  angry  throb  of  the 
heart  when  I  encountered  those  glances. 

"Mademoiselle  saw  my  displeasure,  and  hastened  at  once  to 
soothe  and  dissipate  it.  The  dark  flash  was  always  succeeded 
by  the  most  brilliant  sunshine ;  but,  even  in  moments  of  her  greatest 
apparent  abandon,  I  would  still  meet  suddenly,  when  she  did  not 
think  I  was  looking  at  her,  the  sombre  glance  which  appalled  me. 

"  In  spite  of  this  strange  phenomenon,  however,  the  young  girl 
possessed  unbounded  influence  over  me.  I  could  not  resist  her 
fascinations,  and  was  as  Avax  in  her  hands.  She  took  a  charming 
interest  in  all  that  concerned  me ;  painted  the  blissful  future  before 
ns,  in  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow  ;  and  declared  that  the  devotion 
of  her  whole  life  would  not  be  sufiicient  to  display  '  her  grati- 
tude for  ray  magnanimity  in  wedding  a  poor  girl  who  had 
nothing  but  her  warm  love  to  offer  me.' 

"  'That  is  more  than  enough,'  I  said,  charmed  by  her  caressing 
voice.     '  I  have  few  relations,  and  friends — you  are  all  to  me.' 

"  '  And  you  to  me !'  she  said.  Then  she  added,  with  a  sort  of 
shudder,  'but  suppose  you  were  to  die  !' 

"I  laughed,  and  replied: — 

"  '  You  would  be  well  provided  for,  and  find  yourself  a  gay 
young  widow  with  hundreds  of  beaux  ?' 

"She  locked  at  me  reproachfully. 

"  'Do  you  think  I  would  ever  marry  again  ?'  she  said.  '  Xo  I  I 
would  take  our  marriage  ring,  and  some  little  souvenir  connected 
with  yon,  leave  your  fine  house,  and  go  with  my  brother  to  some 
poor  home  in  a  foreign  country,  where  the  memory  of  our  past 
happiness  would  be  my  solace  !' 

"  I  shook  my  head. 

"'You  will  not  do  that,'  I  said,  'you  will  be  the  mistress  of 
all  ray  fortune,  after  my  death  !' 

"'Oh,  no!'  she  exclaimed. 

" '  Oh,  yes !'  I  responded,  laughing :  '  and,  to  make  every  thing 
certain,  I  am  going  to  draw  up  my  will  this  very  day,  leaving  you 
every  thing  which  I  possess  in  the  world.' 


372  MOHUN. 

"  Her  face  suddenlv  flushed. 

"  'How  can  you  tliink  of  such  a  tlihi^I'  she  said,  '  I  did  not 
know  how  much  you  loved  me  !' 

"  You  will  understand,  my  dear  Surry,  that  those  words  did 
not  change  my  resolution.  When  I  left  her  I  went  home,  and 
wrote  the  will  in  due  form,  and  on  my  next  visit  she  asked, 
laughing,  if  I  had  carried  out  my  absurd  resolution. 

"  '  Yes,'  I  said,  '  and  now  let  us  talk  of  a  more  interesting  af- 
fair— our  marriage  I' 

"She  blushed,  then  turned  pale,  and  again  I  saw  the  strange 
lurid  glance.  It  disappeared,  however,  in  an  instant,  and  she 
was  all  smiles  and  fascinations  throughout  tlie  remainder  of  the 
day.     Never  had  I  been  so  happy." 


XYIII. 

THE   MARRIAGE. 


"As  THE  day  of  our  marriage  approached,"  continued  Mohun, 
"  I  saw  more  than  once  the  same  singular  expression  in  the 
lady's  eyes,  and  I  confess  it  chilled  me. 

"  She  seemed  to  be  the  prey  to  singular  moods,  and  fits  of 
silence.  Slie  took  more  frequent  and  longer  walks  with  Morti- 
mer than  before.  When  they  returned  from  these  walks  and 
found  me  awaiting  them  at  tlie  parsonage,  both  would  look  at 
me  in  the  strangest  way,  only  to  quickly  withdraw  their  eyes 
when  they  caught  my  own  fixed  upon  them. 

"I  longed  to  speak  of  this  curious  phenomenon  to  some  one, 
but  had  no  friend.  My  best  friend,  iSTighthawk,  was  alienated 
from  me,  and  Mademoiselle  had  been  the  cause.  From  the  first 
moment  of  our  acquaintance,  Xighthawk  had  seemed  to  suspect 
something.  He  did  not  attempt  to  conceal  his  dislike  of  Morti- 
mer and  the  young  lady.  Why  was  that  ?  I  could  not  tell. 
Y^our  dog  growls  when  the  secret  foe  approaches  you,  smiling, 


THE    MAPwRIAGE.  373 

<ind,   perhaps,  Xighthawk,  nij  faitliful  retainer,  had  something 
of  the  watcli  dog  in  him. 

"Certain  it  is  that  he  had  witnessed  mv  growing  intimacy  with 
Miss  Mortimer,  with  ill-concealed  distaste.     As  I  became  more 
and  more  attentive,  he  became  almost  sour  toward  me.     Wlien  1 
asked  him  the  meaning  of  his  singular  deportment,  he  shook  liis 
head— and  then,  with  flushed  cheeks  and  eyes,  exclaimed:   'do 
not  marry  this  young  person,  sirl  something  bad  will  come  of  it! 
T\']ien  he  said  tliat,  I  looked  at  him  with  haughty  surprise — and 
this  sentiment  changed  in  a  few  moments  to  cold  anger.    •  Leave 
this  house,'  I  said,  'and  do  not  return  until  you  have  learned  how 
to  treat  me  with  decent  respect !'    He  looked  at  me  for  a  moment, 
clasped  his  hands,  opened  his  lips — seemed  about  to  burst  forth 
into  passionate  entreaty — but  all  at  once,  shaking  his  head,  went 
out  in  silence.     I  looked  after  him  with  a  strange  shrinking  of 
the   heart.     What   could   he   mean?      He   was    senseless  I — and 
I  mounted  my  horse,  galloped  to  the  parsonage,  was  received 
with  radiant  smiles,  and  forgot  the  whole  scene.     On  the  next 
day  Xighthawk  did  not  return— nor  on  the  next.     I  did  not  see 
him  again  until  the  evening  of  the  day  on  which  I  was  married. 
"To  that  'auspicious  moment'  I  have  now  conducted  you,  my 
dear  Surry.     The  morning  for  my  marriage  came.     I  say   'the 
morning' — for  my  'enchantress,'  as  the  amatory  poets  say,  had 
declared  that  sbe  detested  the  idea  of  being  married  at  night ; 
she  also  objected  to  company; — would  I  not  consent  to  have  the 
ceremony  performed  quietly  at  the  parsonage,  with  no  one  present 
bat  her  brother  and  the  excellent  parson,  Hope,  and  his  old  house- 
keeper ?     Then  she  would  belong  to  me— I  could  do  as  I  pleased 
with   her — take  her   to   Fonthill,  or    where  I   chose— she    onlv 
begged  that  I  would  allow  her  to  embark  on  the  ocean  of  matri- 
mony, with  no  one  to  witness  her  blushes  but  myself,  her  brother, 
the  old  housekeeper,  and  the  good  minister  I 

"I  consented  at  once.  The  speech  charmed  me,  I  need  not 
say — and  I  was  not  myself  unwilling  to  dispense  with  inquisitive 
eyes  and  laughing  witnesses.  ^  Infatuated  as  I  was,  I  could  not 
conceal  from  myself  that  my  marriage  was  a  hasty  and  extremely 
•romantic-  affair.  I  doubted  whether  the  old  friends  of  my 
father  in  the  neighborhood  would  approve  of  it ;  and  now,  when 


16* 


374  MOHUN. 

Mademoiselle  c^ave  me  a  good  excuse  to  dispense  with  their 
presence,  I  gladly  assented,  invited  no  one,  and  went  to  my  wed- 
ding alone,  in  the  great  family  chariot,  unaccompanied  by  a  single 
friend  or  relative. 

"Mademoiselle  met  me  with  a  radiant  smile,  and  her  wedding 
dress  of  white  silk,  made  her  look  perfectly  charming.  Her  lips 
were  caressing,  her  eyes  melting,  but  all  at  once,  as  she  looked  at 
me,  I  saw  the  color  all  fade  out  of  the  rosy  lips  of  the  lady ;  and 
from  the  great  dark  eyes  darted  the  lurid  flash.  A  chill,  like 
that  o^death  smote  me,  I  knew  not  wby,  but  I  suppressed  my 
emotion.  In  ten  minutes,  I  was  standing  before  the  excellent 
clergyman,  the  young  lady's  cold  hand  in  mine — and  we  were 
duly  declared  man  and  wife. 

"All  my  forebodings  and  strange  shrinkings  were  completely 
dissipated  at  this  instant.  I  was  overwhelmed  with  happiness, 
and  would  not  have  envied  a  king  upon  his  throne.  With  the 
hand  of  the  lovely  creature  in  my  own,  and  her  eyes  fixed  upon 
me  Avith  an  expression  of  the  deepest  love,  I  experienced  but  one 
emotion — that  of  full,  complete,  unalloyed  happiness. 

"Let  me  hasten  on.  The  storm  is  coming,  my  dear  Surry.  I 
linger  on  the  threshold  of  the  tragedy,  and  recoil  even  now,  with 
a  sort  of  shudder  from  the  terrible  scenes  which  succeeded  my 
marriage.  Tragedy  is  a  mild  word,  as  you  will  perceive,  for  the 
drama.  It  was  going  to  surpass  ^schylus — and  preserve  the 
Greek  'unities  '  with  friglitful  precision  ! 

"Half  an  hour  after  the  ceremony,  I  led  madam  to  my  char- 
iot; followed  her  into  the  vehicle,  and  making  a  last  sign  of 
greeting  to  the  good  parson,  directed  the  driver  to  proceed  to 
Fonthill.  Madam's  excellent  brother  did  not  accompany  us. 
He  declared  his  intention  to  remain  on  that  night  at  the  parson- 
a<xe.  He  would  call  at  Fonthill  on  the  next  dav — on  the  dav 
after,  he  proposed  to  continue  his  way  to  Georgia.  His  eyes  were 
not  a  pleasant  spectacle  as  he  uttered  these  words,  and  I  observed 
a  singular  pallor  came  to  madam's  countenance.  But  I  was  in 
no  mood  to  nourish  suspicion.  At  the  height  of  happiness,  I 
looked  serenely  down  upon  all  the  world,  and  with  the  hand  of 
my  wife  in  my  own,  was  driven  rapidly  to  Fonthill. 

"  We  arrived  in  the  afternoon,  ajid  dined  in  state,  all  alone. 


WEDDING     APwRAIsTGEMEXTS.  375 

Madam  did  the  honors  of  her  tcible  with  exquisite  grace,  but 
more  than  once  I  saw  her  liand  shake  in  a  verj  singuUii*  way,  as 
she  carried  food  or  a  glass  to  her  lips. 

"  After  dinner  she  bade  me  a  smiling  courtesy,  leaving  me  to 
find  company  in  my  cigar,  she  said  ;  and  tripped  off  to  her 
chamber. 

"  Well,  I  lit  my  cigar,  retired  to  the  library,  and  seating  myself 
in  an  arm-chair  before  the  fire,  began  to  reflect.  It  was  nearly 
the  middle  of  December,  and  through  the  opening  in  the  curtains 
I  could  see  the  moonlight  on  the  chill  expanse  of  the  lawn. 

"I  had  just  taken  my  seat,  when  I  heard  a  step  in  the  passage, 
the  door  of  the  library  opened,  and  Nighthawk,  as  pale  as  a 
ghost,  and  with  a  strange  expression  in  his  eyes,  entered  the 
apartment. 


XIX. 

WEDDIXG  ARPvANGEMEN'TS.      • 

"  I  HAD  recognized  his  step,"  continued  Alohun,  "but  I  did 
not  move  or  turn  my  head,  for  I  had  not  recovered  from  my 
feeling  of  ill  humor  toward  the  faithful  retainer.  I  allowed 
him  to  approach  me,  and  then  said  coldly,  without  looking  at 
him — 

'•  'Who  is  that?' 

"  'I,  sir,'  said  Nighthawk,  in  a  trembling  voice.' 

"  '  What  do  you  want  V 

"  '  I  wish  to  speak  to  you,  sir.' 

"  '  I  am  not  at  leisure.' 

*' '  I  must  speak  to  you,  sir.' 

"  I  wheeled  round  in  ray  chair,  and  looked  at  him.  His  pallor 
was  frightful. 

'' '  What  does  all  this  mean  V  I  said,  coldly,  '  this  is  a  singular 
intrusion.' 


876  MonuN. 

"  '  I  would  not  intrude  upon  you,  if  it  was  not  necessary  sir,' 
lie  said,  in  an  agitated  voice,  '  but  I  must  speak  to  you  to- 
night!' 

"  There  was  something  in  his  accent  which  frightened  me, 
I  knew  not  why. 

"  '  Well  speak  I'  I  said,  austerely,  '  but  be  brief!' 
"  '  As  brief  as  I  can,  sir  ;  but  I  must  tell  you  all.    If  you  strike 
me  dead  at  your  feet,  I  must  tell  you  all,  sirl' 
"  In  spite  of  myself  I  shuddered. 

"  '  Speak  !'  I  said,   '  what  does  this  mean,  Xighthawk  ?'    "Why 
do  you  look  like  a  ghost  at  me  ?' 
"  lie  came  up  close  to  me. 

"'What  I  have  to  tell  you  concerns  your  honor  and  your 
life,  sir !'  he  said,  in  a  low  tone. 

"  I  gazed  at  him  in  speechless  astonishment.  Was  I  the  prey 
of  some  nightmare  ?  I  protest  to  you,  Surry,  I  thought  for  a 
moment  that  I  was  dreaming  all  this.  A  tremor  ran  through 
my  frame ;  I  placed  my  hand  upon  my  heart,  which  felt  icy  cold 
— then  suddenly  my  self-possession  and  coolness  seemed  to  return 
to  me  as  bv  magic. 

"  'Explain  your  words,'  I  said,  coldly,  '  there  is  some  mystery 
in  them  which  I  do  not  understand.  Speak,  and  speak 
plainly.' 

"  '  I  will  do  so,  sir,'  he  replied,  in  the  same  trembling  voice. 
"  And  going  to  the  door  of  the  apartment,  he  bent  down  and 
placed  his  ear  at  the  key-hole.  He  remained  in  this  attitude  for  a 
moment  without  moving.  Then  rising,  he  went  to  the  window, 
and  drawing  aside  the  curtains,  looked  out  on  the  chill  moonlit 
expanse.  This  second  examination  seemed  to  satisfy  him.  At 
the  same  instant  a  light  step — the  step  of  madam — was  heard 
crossing  the  floor  of  the  apartment,  above  our  heads;  and  this 
evidently  banished  Xighthawk's  last  fears. 

"He  returned  quickly  to  the  seat  where  I  was  sitting;  looked 
at  me  for  some  minutes  with  eves  full  of  fear,  affection,  svm- 
pathy,  fright,  and  said  in  a  voice  so  low,  that  it  scarce  rose  above 
a  whisper: — 

"  'We  are  alone,  sir,  and  I  can  speak  without  being  overheard 
by  these  devils  who  have  betrayed  and  are  about  to  murder  you  ! 


TVEDDIXG     AERAJTGEMENTS.  377 

Do  not  interrupt  rae  sir ! — the  time  is  short ! — you  must  know 
every  thing  at  once,  in  an  hour  it  woukl  he  too  late  !  The  man 
calling  himself  Mortimer  is  probahlj  within  a  hundred  yards  of 

us  at  this  moment.    The  woman  you  have  mairied  is his  wife. 

Stop,  sir  I — do  not  strike  rae! — listen  !  I  know  the  truth  of  every 
thing  now.  She  talked  with  him  for  an  hour  under  the  big  cedar, 
near  the  parsonage  last  night.  He  will  see  her  again  to-night, 
and  in  this  house — hear  me  to  the  end,  sir !  You  will  not  harm 
him;  you  will  care  nothing  for  all  this;  you  will  not  know  it, 
for  vou  will  be  dead,  sir ! ' 

"  At  these  words  I  must  have  turned  deadly  pale,  for  Night- 
hawk  hastened  to  my  side,  and  placed  his  arm  around  me  to  sup- 
port rae.  But  T  did  not  need  his  assistance.  In  an  instant  I  was 
as  calm  as  I  am  at  this  moment.  I  quietly  removed  the  arm  of 
Nighthawk,  and  said  in  a  low  tone: — 
"  '  How  do  you  know  this  V 

"  '  I  overheard  their  talk,'  he  replied,  in  a   husky  voice,  and 
looked   at   me  with   infinite  tenderness  as  he   spoke.       '  I  was 
coming  to  see  you  at  the  parsonage,  where  I  thought  you  had 
gone,  sir.     I  could  not  bear  to  keep  away  from  my  old  master's 
son  any  longer;  and  let  him  get  married  without  making  up,  and 
having  him  feel  kindly  again  to  me.    Well,  sir,  I  had  just  reached 
the  big  cedar,  when  I  saw  the  lady  come  out  of  the  house,  hasten 
toward  the  cedar,  and  hide  herself  in  the  shadow,  within  a  few  feet 
of  me.     Ifo  sooner  had  she  done  so,  than  I  saw  a  man  come  from 
the  rear  of  the  house,  straight  to  the  cedar,  and  as  he  drew  nearer 
I  recognized  Mortimer.     Madam  coughed  slightly,  as  though  to 
give  him  the  signal ;  he  soon  reached  her ;   and  then  they  began 
to  talk.     I  was  hidden  by  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  and  the  shadow 
of  the  heavy  boughs,  reaching  nearly  to  the  ground;  so  I  heard 
every  word  they  said,  without  being  discovered.' 
"  '  "What  was  it  they  said  V 

"  '  I  can  not  repeat  their  words,  sir,  but  I  can  tell  you  what  I 
learned  from  their  talk.' 
'"Tell  me,'  I  said. 

"'First,  I  discovered  that  madam  had  been  married  to  that 
man  more  than  a  year  before  yon  saw  her.' 
"  '  Yes.' 


378  Mo^u^^. 

"  *  Before  wliicli  she  bad  been  tried,  convicted,  and  confined 
for  six  months  in  a  prison  in  New  York,  as  a  thief.  You  turn 
pale,  sir  ;  shall  I  stop  V 

"  '  No,  go  on,'  I  said. 

"  '  These  facts,'  continued  Nightbawk,  '  came  out  in  a  sort  of 
quarrel  "which  madam  had  with  the  man.  He  reproached  her 
with  intending  to  desert  him — with  loving  you — and  said  lie  had 
not  rescued  her  from  misery  to  be  thus  treated.  She  laughed,  and 
replied  that  she  was  only  following  a  suggestion  of  his  own.  They 
were  poor,  they  must  live ;  he  had  himself  said  that  they  nmst 
procure  money  either  honestly  or  dishonestly;  and  he  had  fully 
approved  of  the  plan  she  had  now  undertaken.  You,  sir — she 
added — were  an  "empty-headed  fool," — the  idea  of  her  "loving  " 
you  was  absurd  ! — but  you  were  wealthy  ;  immensely  wealthy ; 
had  made  a  will  leaving  her  your  entire  property  ; — if  you  died 
suddenly  on  your  wedding  night,  she  and  himself  would  possess 
Fonthill,  and  live  in  affluence.' 

"'Go  on,' I  said. 

"  '  At  these  words,'  continued  Nightbawk,  '  I  could  see  the  man 
turn  pale.  He  had  not  intended  that,  he  said.  His  scheme  had 
been,  that  madam  should  induce  you  to  bestow  upon  her  a  splen- 
did trousseau  in  the  shape  of  jewels  and  money,  with  which  they 
would  elope.  The  marriage  was  only  a  farce,  he  added — he  did 
not  wish  to  turn  it  into  a  tragedy.  But  she  interrupted  him  im- 
patiently, and  said  she  hated  and  would  have  no  mercy  on  you. 
She  would  have  all  or  nothing.  Your  will  made  her  the  mistress. 
What  was  a  crime,  more  or  less,  to  people  like  themselves!  At 
these  words  he  uttered  a  growl.  In  a  word,  she  added,  you  were 
an  olstacle,  and  she  was  going  to  suppress  you — with  or  without 
bis  consent.  She  then  proceeded  to  tell  him  her  resolution;  and 
it  is  a  frightful,  a  horrible  one,  sir !  All  is  arranged — you  are 
about  to  be  murdered  /' 

"  'How,  and  when?'  I  said. 

"  '  This  very  night,  by  poison !' 

"  '  Ah  !'  I  said,  '  explain  that.' 

"'Madam  has  provided  herself  with  strychnine,  which  she 
will  place  in  the  tea  you  drink  to-night.  Tea  will  be  served  in 
half  an  hour.     He  will  be  waiting — for  she  forced  him  to  agree — 


THE    CUP    OF    TEA.  37D 

and  your  cries  will  announce  all  to  Jiim.  You  will  be  poisoned 
between  eight  and  nine  o^clock  in  the  evening,  sir, — at  ten  Vou* 
will  already  be  dying, — and  at  midnight  you  will  be  dead.  Then 
madam  will  banish  every  one  from  her  chamber,  in  inconsolable 
gnef — lock  the  door — tap  on  the  window-pane — lie  will  hear  the 
signal,  and  come  up  the  back  staircase — when  madam  will  open 
the  private  door  for  him  to  come  in  and  take  a  look  at  your  body  ! 
Do  you  understand  now,  sir?' 

''  'Yes,'  I  said.     '  Remain  here,  Xighthawk.     There  is  the  step 
of  the  servant  coming  to  tell  me  tea  is  ready!'  " 


XX. 

THE    CUP    OF    TEA. 


"  The  door  opened  as  I  uttered  the  words,  and  my  old  major- 
domo — gray  haired,  and  an  heir-loom,  so  to  say,  of  the  family — 
bowed  low,  and   announced  that  tea  was   served    and  madam 


waiting. 


"I  rose  and  looked  into  the  mirror  above  the  fireplace.  I  was 
pale,  but  not  sufficiently  so  to  excite  suspicion ;  and  with  a  smile 
which  frightened  Nighthawk,  took  my  way  toward  the  supper- 
room. 

"  Madam  was  awaiting  me,  as  I  suspected,  and  I  had  never  seen 
her  look  more  radiant.  A  single  glance  told  me  that  she  had 
made  an  elaborate  toilet  in  honor  of — my  funeral!  Her  dark 
hair  was  in  shining  braids ;  her  eyes  sparkled  with  joy ;  her  parted 
lips  showed  her  white  teeth ; — the  only  evidence  I  saw  of  con- 
cealed emotion  was  in  the  bloodless  cheeks.  They  were  as  white 
as  the  lace  falling  over  her  superb  silk  dress. 

"'You  see  you  keep  me  waiting!'  she  said,  with  playful 
naivete^  '  and  your  tea  is  growing  cold,  sir — which  is  worse  for  me 
than  for  you,  as  you  do  not  care,  but  I  care  for  you !' 

"And  as  I  passed  her,  she  drew  me  playfully  toward  her, 
dragged  nle  down,  and  held  up  her  hps.     I  touched  them  with 


380  Monuy. 

my  own;  they  were  as  cold  as  ice,  or  the  cheek  my  own  fiacft 
just  touched  in  passing.  I  went  to  the  table;  took  my  seat;  and 
madam  poured  out  the  tea,  with  a  covert  glance  toward  me.  I 
was  not  looking  at  her,  but  I  saw  it. 

"  A  moment  afterward,  the  old  waiter  presented  me  the  small 
gilt  cup,  smoking,  fragrant,  and  inviting. 

"I  took  it,  looking,  as  before,  out  of  the  corner  of  my  eye  at 
madam.  She  was  leaning  forward,  watching  me  with  a  face  as 
pale  as  death.     I  could  hear  her  teeth  chatter. 

"  I  placed  the  cup  to  my  lips ; — her  hand,  holding  a  spoon,  trem- 
bled so  that  the  spoon  beat  a  tattoo  on  her  saucer.  She  was 
watching  me  in  breatliless  suspense ;  and  all  at  once  I  turned  full 
toward  her. 

"  '  The  taste  of  this  tea  is  singular,'  I  said,  '  I  should  call  it  very 
bad.' 

"  'Oh,  it  is — excellent!'  she  muttered,  between  her  chattering 
teeth. 

"'The  cup  you  send  me  is  certainly  wretched.  Do  me  the 
jyleasure  to  taste  it,  madamJ* 

"And  depositing  it  upon  the  waiter  of  the  old  servant,  I 
said  : — 

"  '  Take  this  to  vour  mistress.' 

"  He  did  so;  she  just  touched  it  with  her  lips,  her  hand  trem- 
bling, then  replaced  it  upon  the  waiter. 

"  '  I  perceive  nothing  disagreeable,'  she  murmured. 

"  '  Swallow  a  mouthful,'  I  said,  with  a  bitter  smile. 

"  She  looked  at  me  with  sudden  intentness.  Her  eyes, 
full  of  wild  inquiry,  seemed  attempting  to  read  into  my  very 
soul. 

"'Perhaps  you  object  to  drinking  after  me,  as  the  children 
say,'  I  added — this  time  with  a  species  of  sneer,  and  a  flash  of  the 
eve,  I  think. 

•/  7 

"  '  Oh,  no!'  she  exclaimed,  with  an  attempt  to  laugh  ;  'and  to 
show  vou ' 

"  With  a  quick  movement  she  attempted — as  though  by  acci- 
(3ent — to  strike  the  waiter  with  her  elbow,  in  order  to  overturn 
the  cup. 

"  But  the  old  servant  was  too  well  trained.     The  lady's  elbow 


THE    CUP    OF    TEA.  381 

struck  the  waiter,  but  the  skilful  attendant  witliirew  it  quickly. 
Not  a  drop  of  the  tea  was  spilled. 

"  A  moment  afterward  I  was  beside  madam. 

"  '  I  pray  you  to  drink,'  I  said. 

"  '  I  can  not — I  feel  unwell,'  she  murmured,  cowering  beneath 
the  fire  in  my  eye. 

"  '  I  beg  you  to  drink  from  this  cup.' 

"  'I  have  told  you — I  will  not.' 

/' '  I  beseech  you  to  humor  me,  madam.     Else  I  shall  regard 
you  as  a  murderess  ! 

"  She  rose  suddeuly. 

"  'Your  meaning,  sir!'  she  exclaimed,  as  pale  ai.  death. 

"  I  took  the  cup  and  poured  the  tea  into  a  saucer.  At  the  bot- 
tom was  a  modicum  of  white  powder,  undissolved.  I  poured  the 
tea  into  the  cup  again — then  a  second  time  into  the  saucer.  This 
time  nothing  remained — and  I  proceeded  to  pour  cream  into  the 
saucer,  until  it  was  filled.  Madam  watched  me  with  distended 
eyes,  and  trembling  from  head  to  foot.  Then  suddenly  she 
uttered  a  cry — a  movement  of  mine  had  caused  the  cry. 

"  I  had  gone  to  the  fire  where  a  cat  was  reposing  upon  the 
rug,  and  placed  the  saucer  before  her.  In  two  minutes  its  con- 
tents  had  disappeared  down  the  throat  of  the  cat.  Five  minutes 
afterward  the  animal  was  seized  with  violent  convulsions- 
uttered  unearthly  cries— tore  the  carpet  with  its  claws— glared 
around  in  a  sort  of  despair— rolled  on  its  back,  beat  the  air 
with  its  paws — and  expired. 

"  I  turned  to  madam,  who  was  gazing  at  me  with  distended 
eyes,  and  pointing  to  the  cat,  said  : — 

"  '  See  this  unfortunate  animal,  madam  !  Her  death  is  curious. 
She  has  died  in  convulsions,  in  consequence  of  drinking  a  cup  of 
tea!'" 


382  MOIIUN. 

XXI. 

THE    FOILS. 

"  Up  to  this  moment,"  continued  Mohun,  *'  madam  had  ex- 
hibited every  indication  of  nervous  excitement,  and  a  sort  of  ter- 
ror. Had  that  arisen  from  a  feeling  of  suspense,  and  the  unex- 
pected discovery  of  her  intent  by  the  proposed  victim'?  I  know- 
not  ;  but  now,  when  all  was  discovered,  her  manner  suddenly 
changed. 

"  She  glared  at  me  like  a  wild  animal  driven  to  bay.  Her 
pearly  teeth  closed  upon  her  under  lip  until  the  blood  started. 
Pallid,  but  defiant,  she  uttered  a  low  hoarse  sound  which  resem- 
bled the  growl  of  a  tigress  from  whom  her  prey  has  been 
snatched,  and  with  a  firm  and  haughty  step  left  the  apartment, 
glaring  over  lier  shoulder  at  me  to  tiie  last. 

"  Then  her  step  was  heard  upon  the  great  staircase ;  she 
slowly  ascended  to  her  chamber ;  the  door  opened,  then  closed 
— and  I  sat  down,  overcome  for  an  instant  by  the  terrible  scene, 
within  three  paces  of  the  dead  animal,  destroyed  by  the  poison 
intended  for  myself. 

'•  This  oaralvsis  of  mind  lasted  onlv  for  a  moment,  however. 
I  rose  coollv ;  directed  the  old  servant,  who  alone  had  witnessed 
the  scene,  to  retire,  and  carefully  abstam  from  uttering  a  word 
of  what  had  passed  before  him — then  I  leaned  upon  the  mantel- 
piece, reflected  for  five  minutes — and  in  that  time  I  had  formed 
my  resolution. 

"  Mortimer  was  first  to  be  thouglit  of.  I  intended  to  put  him 
to  death  first  and  foremost.  It  would  have  been  easy  to  have 
imitated  the  old  seigneurs  of  the  feudal  age,  and  ordered  ray 
retainers  to  assassinate  him ;  but  that  was  repugnant  to  my 
whole  character.  It  should  never  be  said  that  a  Mohun  had 
shrunk  before  his  foe;  that  one  of  my  family  had  delegated 
to  another  the  punishment  of  his  enemy.  I  would  fight  Mor- 
timer— meet  him  in  fair  and  open  combat — if  he  killed  me  well 
and  good.  If  not,  I  would  kill  him.  And  it  should  not  be  with 
the  pistol.  I  thirsted  to  meet  him  breast  to  breast ;  to  feel 
my  weapon   traverse   his   heart.     To    accomplish   this  was   Dot 


TEE    FOILS.  383 

ditBcult.  I  had  often  heard  Mortimer,  when  at  the  par^onag'e, 
boast  of  his  skill  with  the  foils.  I  had  a  pair  at  hand.  By  break- 
inc^  off  the  buttons,  and  sharpening  the  points,  I  would  secure  two 
rude  but  excellent  rapiers,  with  which  Mortimer  and  myself 
could  settle  our  little  differences,  after  the  fashion  of  gentlemen 
in  former  ages !  As  to  the  place  of  combat, — anywhere — in  the 
house,  or  a  part  of  the  grounds  around  the  mansion — it  was  un- 
important I  said,  so  that  one  of  us  was  killed.  But  a  moment's 
reflection  induced  me  to  change  my  views.  "Under  any  circum- 
stances /was  going  to  die — that  was  true.  My  character,  how- 
ever, must  be  thought  of.  It  would  not  do  to  have  a  stain  rest 
on  the  last  of  the  house  of  Mohun  I  Were  I  to  kill  Mortimer  in 
the  house,  or  grounds,  it  would  be  said  that  I  had  murdered  him, 
with  the  aid  of  my  servauts — that  I  had  drawn  him  thither  to 
strike  him — had  acted  the  traitor  and  the  coward.  '  Xo,'  I  said, 
'  even  in  death  I  must  guard  the  family  honor.  This  man  must 
fall  elsewhere — in  some  spot  far  distant  from  this  house — fall 
without  witnesses — in  silence — in  fair  fight  with  me,  no  one  evea 
seeing  us,' 

"I  had  formed  this  resolution  in  five  minutes  after  the  de- 
parture of  madam  from  the  supper-room.  I  went  straight  to 
the  library  ;  calmly  stated  my  resolution  to  Nighthawk  ;  and  in 
spite  of  his  most  obstinate  remonstrances,  and  repeated  refusals, 
broke  down  his  opposition  by  sheer  force  of  will.  It  took  me 
half  an  hour,  but  at  the  end  of  that  time  I  had  succeeded.  Il^ight- 
hawk  listened,  with  bent  head,  and  pale  face  covered  with  drops 
of  cold  perspiration,  to  my  orders.  These  orders  were  to  have 
the  horses  put  to  the  carriage,  which  was  to  be  ready  at  my  call ; 
then  to  proceed  with  a  trusty  servant,  or  more  if  necessary,  to 
a  private  spot  on  the  river,  which  I  described  to  him ;  dig  a  grave 
of  full  length  and  depth  ;  and  when  his  work  was  finished,  return 
and  report  the  fact  to  me,  cautioning  the  servant  or  servants  to 
sav  nothinix. 

'•  This  work,  I  calculated,  would  be  completed  about  midnight 
— and  at  midnight  I  promised  myself  an  interview  with  my  friend 
Mortimer. 

''  Xighthawk  groaned  as  he  listened  to  my  cold  and  resolnt© 
voice,  giving  minute  instructions  for  the  work  of  darkness— looked 


384:  MOnUN. 

at  my  face,  to  discover  if  tliere  were  any  signs  of  yielding  there — 
doubtless  saw  none  whatever — and  disappeared,  uttering  a  groan, 
to  carry  out  the  orders  wliich  he  had  received  from  me. 

"Then  I  took  the  two  foils  from  the  top  of  the  bookcase  where 
they  were  kept;  broke  otf  tlie  buttons  by  placing  my  heel  upon 
them";  procured  a  file,  and  sharpened  the  points  until  thoy  would 
liave  penetrated  through  an  ordinary  plank.  That  was  sufficient, 
I  said  to  myself— they  would  pierce  a  man's  breast — and  jdacing 
them  on  the  buffet,  I  went  to  a  .(drawer  and  took  out  a  loaded 
revolver,  wliicli  I  thrust  into  mv  breast. 

"  Two  minutes  afterward  I  had  ascended  to  madam's  chamber, 
opened  the  door,  and  entered.'" 


XXII. 

WHILE    WATTIXG   FOR   MIDXIGHT. 

"  I  DID  not  arrive  a  moment  too  soon — in  fact  T  came  in  the 
nick  of  time. 

"Madam  had  hastily  collected  watches,  chains,  breastpins,  neck- 
laces, and  all  the  monev  she  could  find  ;  had  thrust  the  whole  into 
a  jewel  casket;  thrown  her  rich  furs  around  her  shoulders;  and 
was  hurrying  toward  the  door,  in  rear  of  the  apartment  which 
opened  on  the  private  staircase. 

"  She  had  not  locked  the  main  door  of  the  apartment,  doubtless 
fearing  to  excite  suspicion,  or  knowing  I  could  easily  break  the 
hasp  with  a  single  blow  of  my  foot.  She  had  plainly  counted  on 
my  stupor  of  astonishment  and  horror  at  her  crime,  and  was  now 
trying  to  escape. 

"That  did  not  suit  ray  view,  however.  In  two  steps,  I  reached 
the  private  door,  turned  the  key,  drew  it  from  the  lock,  and 
placed  it  in  my  pocket. 

"  'Sit  down,  madam,'  I  said,  'and  do  not  be  in  such  a  hurry 
to  desert  your  dear  husband.  Let  us  talk  for  a  few  moments, 
at  least,  before  you  depart.' 


WxVITIXG    FOR    MIDNIGHT.  385 

I 

"  She  glared  at  me  and  sat  down.  She  looked  regal  in  her 
costly  furs,  holding  the  casket,  heaped  with  rich  jewels. 

'"What  is  your  programme,  madam,  if  I  may  ask?'  I  said, 
taking  a  chair  which  stood  opposite  to  her. 

"  '  To  leave  this  house  !'  she  said,  hoarsely. 

"  '  Ah  !  you  are  tired  of  me,  then  V 

"  '  I  am  sick  of  you! — have  long  been  sick  of  you!' 

"  'Indeed  !'  I  said.  '  That  is  curious  !  I  thought  our  marriage 
was  a  love  affiiir,  madam ;  at  least  you  induced  me  to  suppose  so. 
"What,  then,  has  suddenly  changed  your  sentiments  in  my  direc- 
tion ?  Am  I  a  monster  ?  Have  I  been  cruel  to  you  ?  Am  I  un- 
worthv  of  vou?' 

"  '  I  hate  and  despise  you  !' 

"  It  was  the  hoarse  growl  of  a  wild  animal  rather  that  the 
voice  of  a  woman.  She  was  imperial  at  that  moment — and 
I  acknowledge,  Surry,  tliat  she  was  '  game  to  the  last !' 

"  '  Ah  !  you  hate  me,  you  despise  me !'  I  said.  '  I  have  had  the 
misfortune  to  incur  madam's  displeasure  !  No  more  connubial 
happiness — no  more  endearments  and  sweet  confldences — no 
more  loving  words,  and  glances — no  more  bliss!' 

"  She  continued  to  glare  at  me. 

"  'I  am  unworthy  of  madam;  I  see  that  clearly,'  I  went  on. 
'I  am  only  a  poor  little,  plain  little,  insignificant  little  country 
clodhopper!  I  am  nothing — a  mere  nobody, — wliile  madam  is — 
shall  I  tell  you,  madam  ?  While  you  are  a  convict — a  bigamist, 
— and  a  poisoner!     Are  you  not?' 

"Her  face  became  livid,  but  her  defiant  eyes  never  sank  before 
my  glance.  I  really  admired  her,  Surry.  J^o  woman  was  ever 
braver  than  that  one.  I  had  supposed  that  these  words  wouhl 
overwhelm  her;  that  the  discovery  of  my  acquaintance  with  her 
past  life,  and  full  knowledge  of  her  attempted  crime,  would  crush 
her  to  the  earth.  Perhaps  I  had  some  remnant  of  pity  for  this 
woman.  If  she  had  been  submissive,  repentant !  but,  instead  of 
submission  and  confusion,  she  exhibited  gj-eater  defiance  than 
before.  In  the  pale  face  her  eyes  burned  like  coals  of  fire — and 
it  was  rage  which  inflamed  tliem. 

"  'So  you  have  set  your  spies  on  me!'  she  exclaimed,  in  ac- 
cents  of  inexpressible   fury.     '  You  are  a  chivalric  gentleman, 


3SG  MOHUX. 

truly  !  You  are  worthy  of  your  boasted  family !  You  pretend  to 
love  and  confide  in  me — you  look  at  me  with  smiles  and  eyes  of 
affection — and  all  the  time  you  are  laying  a  trap  for  me — endea- 
voring to  catch  me  and  betray  me!  Well,  yes,  sir!  yes!  AVliat 
yon  have  discovered  through  your  spies  is  true.  I  was  tried  and 
sentenced  as  a  tliief — I  was  married  when  I  first  saw  you — and  it 
is  this  miserable  creature,  this  offscouring  of  the  kennels,  this 
thief,  that  has  become  the  wife  of  the  proud  Mr.  Mohun — in  the 
eves  of  the  world  at  least !  I  am  so  still — mv  character  is  nn- 
tainted — dare  to  expose,  me  and  have  me  punished,  and  it  is  your 
proud  name  that  will  be  tarnished !  your  grand  escutcheon  that 
will  be  blotted !  Come !  arrest  me,  expose  me,  drag  me  to 
justice!  I  will  stand  up  in  open  court,  and  point  my  linger  at 
you  where  you  stand  cowering,  in  the  midst  of  jeers  and  laughter^ 
and  sav  :  '•  There  is  Mr.  Mohun,  of  the  ancient  family  of  the  Mo- 
huns,' — he  is  the  husband  and  the  dupe  of  a  thief!" 

"  She  was  splendid  as  she  uttered  these  words,  Surry.  They 
thrilled  me,  and  made  my  blood  flame.  I  half  rose,  nearly  beside 
myself — then  I  resumed  my  seat  and  my  coolness.  A  moment 
afterward  I  was  as  calm  as  I  am  at  this  moment,  and  said, 
laugljing:-^ 

'"So  you  have  prepared  that  pretty  little  tableau,  have  you, 
madam?  I  compliment  you  on  your  skill; — and  even  more  on 
your  nerve.  But  have  you  not  omitted  one  thing — a  very  trifling 
portion,  it  is  true,  of  the  indictment  to  be  framed  against  ^ou  ? 
I  refer  to  the  little  scene  of  this  evening,  madam.' 

"Her  teeth  closed  with  a  snap.  Otherwise  she  exhibited  no 
emotion.  Her  flashing  eyes  continued  to  survey  me  with  the 
former  defiance. 

"  '  Is  there  not  an  additional  clause  in  the  said  indictment, 
madam?'  I  calmly  continued,  'which  the  commonwealth's 
attorney  will  perhaps  rely  on  more  fully  than  upon  all  else  in  the 
document,  to  secure  your  conviction  and  punishment?  You  are 
not  only  a  bigamist  and  an  ex-convict, — you  are  also  a  poisoner, 
my  dear  madam,  and  may  be  hanged  for  that.  Or,  if  not  hanged 
— there  is  that  handsome  white  house  at  Eichmond,  the  state 
penitentiary.  The  least  term  which  a  jury  can  afiix  to  your 
crime,  will  be  eighteen  years,  if  you  are  not  sent  there  for  life ! 


WAITIXG    FOR    MIDXIGHT.  387 

For  life! — think  of  that,  madam.  How  very  disagreeable  it  will 
be !  Nothing  around  you  but  blank  walls ;  no  associates  but  thieves 
and  murderers — hard  labor  with  these  pretty  hands — a  hard  bed 
for  this  handsome  body — coarse  and  wretched  food  for  these 
dainty  red  lips — the  dress,  the  food,  the  work,  and  the  treatment 
of  a  convict!  Disagreeable,  is  it  not,  madam?  But  that  is  the 
least  that  a  felon,  convicted  of  an  attempt  to  poison,  can  expect ! 
There  is  only  one  point  which  I  have  omitted,  and  which  may 
count  for  you.  This  life  in  prison  will  not  be  so  hard  to  you — 
since  your  ladyship  has  already  served  your  apprenticeship  among 
felons.' 

"  The  point  at  last  was  reached.  Madam  had  listened  with 
changing  color,  and  my  words  seemed  to  paint  the  frightful 
scene  in  all  its  horror.  Suddenly  fury  mastered  her.  She  rose 
and  seemed  clutching  at  some  weapon  to  strike  me. 

"  'You  are  a  gentleman  I  you  insult  a  woman.' 

"  'You  are  a  poisoner,  madam — you  make  tea  for  the  gentleman!' 

"  '  You  are  a  coward!  do  vou  hear?  a  coward!' 

"'lean  not  return,  madam,  the  same  reproach!'  I  replied, 
rising  and  bowing ;  '  it  required  some  courage  to  attempt  to 
poison  me  upon  the  very  night  of  my  wedding!' 

"My  words  drove  her  to  frenzy. 

"'Beware!'  she  exclaimed,  taking  a  step  toward  me,  and 
putting  her  hand  into  her  bosom. 

"  'Beware!'  I  said,  with  a  laugh,  "beware  of  what,  my  dear 
Madam  LafFarge?' 

"'Of  this!' 

"  And  with  a  movement  as  rapid  as  lightning  she  drew  from  her 
breast  a  small  silver-mounted  pistol,  which  she  aimed  straight  at 
mv  breast. 

"  I  was  not  in  a  mood  to  care  much  for  pistols,  Surry.  "When 
a  man  is  engaged  in  a  little  aifair  like  that,  bullets  lose  their  in- 
fluence on  the  nerves. 

"  '  That  is  a  pretty  toy!'  I  said.  '  Where  did  you  procure  it 
madam,  the  poisoner  V 

"  With  a  face  resembling  rather  a  hideous  mask  than  a  human 
countenance,  she  rushed  upon  me  ;  placed  the  muzzle  of  the  pistol 
on  my  very  breast;   and  drew  the  trigger. 


o 


88  M  O  H  U  N . 


"  The  weapon  snapped, 

"  A  moment  afterward  I  had  taken  it  from  her  hand  and 
thrown  it  into  a  corner. 

"' Very  well  done!'  I  said.  'What  a  pity  that  you  use  such 
indifferent  caps !     Your  pistol  is  as  harmless  as  your  tea  I' 

"  She  uttered  a  hoarse  cry,  but  did  not  recoil  in  the  least,  Surry ! 
Tliie  woman  was  a  curiosity.  Instead  of  retreating  from  me,  she 
clenched  her  small  white  hand,  raised  it  above  her  head,  and 
exclaimed:  — 

"  '  If  he  only  were  here  1' 

"  '  ITe^  madam  V  I  said.  '  You  refer  to  your  respected  hrother 
— to  Mr.  Mortimer?' 

•' '  Yes !  he  would  make  you  repent  your  cowardly  outrages 
and  insults.' 

''  I  looked  at  my  watch,  it  was  just  eleven. 

"  *  The  hour  is  earlier  than  I  thought,  madam,'  I  said,  '  but 
perhaps  he  has  already  arrived.' 

"  And  advancing  to  the  side  of  the  lady,  I  took  her  arm,  drew 
her  toward  the  window,  and  said  : — 

*'  '  Why  not  give  your  friend  the  signal  you  have  agreed  on, 
madam  V 

"  At  a  bound  she  reached  the  window,  and  struck  a  rapid 
series  of  blows  with  her  lingers  upon  the  pane. 

"  Five  minutes  afterward  a  heavy  step  was  heard  ascending 
the  private  staircase.  I  went  to  the  door  and  unlocked  it;  the 
step  approached — stopped  at  the  door — the  door  opened,  and 
Mortimer  appeared. 

"  '  Come  in,  my  dear  brother-in-law,'  I  said,  '  we  are  waiting 
for  you.'  " 


XXIII. 

THE  RESULT   OF   THE   SIGXAL. 

"  Mortimer  recoiled  as  if  a  blow  had  been  suddenly  struck  at 
him.     His  astonishment  was  so  comic  that  I  began  to  laugh. 


THE    EESULT    OF    THE    SIQXAL.         3S9 

"'Good!  YOU  start!'  I  said.  "You  thought  I  was  dead  bv 
this  time  V 

"  '  Yes,'  he  coolly  replied. 

"  As  he  spoke,  his  hand  stole  under  the  cloak  in  which  he  was 
wrapped,  and  I  heard  the  click  of  a  pistol  as  he  cocked  it.  I 
drew  my  own  weapon,  cocked  it  in  turn,  and  placing  the  muzzle 
upon  Mortimer's  breast,  said  : — • 

"  'Draw  your  pistol  and  you  are  dead!' 

"  He  looked  at  me  with  perfect  coolness,  mingled  with  a  sort 
of  curiosity.  I  saw  that  he  was  a  man  of  unfaltering  courage,  and 
that  the  instincts  of  a  gentleman  had  not  entirely  left  him,  soiled 
as  he  was  with  everv  crime.  His  eve  was  calm  and  unshrinkinor. 
He  did  not  move  an  inch  when  I  placed  my  pistol  muzzle  upon 
his  breast.  At  the  words  which  I  uttered  he  withdrew  his  hand 
from  his  cloak — he  had  returned  the  weapon  to  its  place — and 
with  a  penetrating  glance,  said  : — ■ 

"  '  What  do  you  wish,  sir;  as  you  declare  you  await  me?' 

"  '  Ask  madam,'  I  said,  '  or  rather  exert  your  own  ingenuity.' 

"  '  My  ingenuity  ?' 

"  '  In  guessing.' 

"  '  Whv  not  tell  me?' 

"  '  So  be  it.  The  matter  is  perfectly  simple,  sir.  I  wish  to 
kill  you,  or  give  you  an  opportunity  to  kill  me — is  that  plain  V 

"  '  Quite  so,'  replied  Mortimer,  without  moving  a  muscle.' 

"  '  I  can  understand,  without  further  words,  that  all  explana- 
tions and  discussions  are  wholly  useless.' 

"'Wholly.' 

"  '  You  wish  to  fight  me,'  he  said. 

" '  Yes.' 

"  '  To  put  an  end  to  me,  if  possible  V 

"'Yes.' 

"  '  Well,  I  will  give  you  that  opportunity,  sir,  and,  even  return 
you  my  thanks  for  not  killing  me  on  the  spot.' 

"  He  paused  a  moment,  and  looked  keenly  at  me. 

"  '  This  whole  aifair  is  infamous,'  he  said.  '  I  knew  that  when 
I  undertook  it.  I  was  once  a  gentleman,  and  have  not  forgotten 
every  thing  I  then  learned,  whatever  my  practice  may  be.  You 
have  been  tricked  and  deceived.    You  have  been  made  the  victina 


390  MOHUN. 

of  a  disgraceful  plot,  and  I  was  the  author  of  the  whole  affair ; 
though  this  l:idy  would,  herself,  have  been  equal  to  that,  or  even 
more.  You  see  I  talk  to  you  plainly,  sir;  I  know  a  gentleman 
when  I  see  him,  and  you  arc  one.  I  was  formerly  something  of 
tlie  same  sort,  but  having  outlawed  myself,  went  on  in  the  career 
that  brought  me  to  this.  I  was  poor — am  poor  now.  I  origi- 
nated the  idea  of  this  pseudo-marriage,  with  a  view  to  profit  by 
it,  but  with  no  further — ' 

"  He  suddenly  paused  and  looked  at  the  woman.  Their  glances 
in  that  moment  crossed  like  lightning. 

"  'Speak  out!'  she  cried,  'say  plainly — ' 

"  '  Hush !  I  did  not  mean  to — I  am  no  coward,  madam  !' 

"  '  Say  plainly  that  it  was  /who  formed  the  design  to  get  rid  of 
this  person!' 

"  And  she  pointed  furiously  at  me. 

*'  'Let  no  scruples  restrain  you — take  nothing  upon  yourself — it 
was  I,  I ! — I  who  planned  his  death  !' 

"  Mortirner  remained  for  an  instant  silent.  Then  he  resumed, 
in  the  same  measured  voice  as  before : — 

"  'You  hear,'  he  said.  '  I  tried  to  shield  her,  to  take  the  blame 
— meant  to  give  you  no  inkling  of  this — but  she  spoils  all.  To 
end  this.  I  have  offered  you  a  mortal  insult — soiled  an  ancient 
and  honorable  name — the  last  representative  of  the  Mohuns  has 
formed  through  me  a  degrading  connection.  I  acknowledge  all 
that.  I  am  going  to  try  to  kill  you,  to  bury  e%'ery  thing  in  the 
grave.  I  would  have  shrunk  from  assassinating  you,  though  I 
wish  vour  death.  You  offer  me  honorable  combat,  and  vou  do 
me  an  honor,  which  I  appreciate.  Let  us  finish.  The  place,  time, 
and  weapons  V 

"  There  was,  then,  something  not  altogether  base  in  this  man. 
I  listened  with  joy.  I  had  expected  to  encounter  a  wretch  with- 
out a  single  attribute  of  the  gentleman. 

"  '  You  accept  this  honorable  combat,  then  V  I  said. 

*'  'With  thanks,'  he  replied. 

"  '  You  wish  to  fight  as  gentlemen  fight  ?' 

"  '  Yes.' 

"  'You  fence  well  ?' 

"'Yes— but  you?' 


THE    RESULT    OF    THE    SIGNAL.         391 

*"  Sufficiently  well.' 

" '  Are  you  certain?  I  warn  you  I  am  excellent  at  the  foils.'* 

"  '  They  suit  me — that  is  agreed  on,  then  ?' 

"He  bowed,  and  said: — 

"  '  Yes.  And  now,  as  to  the  place,  the  time,  and  every  detail. 
All  that  I  leave  to  you." 

"  I  bowed  in  turn. 

"  '  Then  nothing  will  delay  our  affair.  I  have  ordered  a  grave 
to  be  dug,  in  a  private  spot,  on  the  river.  The  foils  are  ready, 
with  the  buttons  broken,  the  points  sharpened.  The  carriage 
has  been  ordered.  A  ride  of  fifteen  minutes  will  bring  us  to  the 
grave,  which  is  done  by  this  time,  and  we  can  settle  our  differ- 
ences there,  by  moonlight,  without  witnesses  or  interruption.' 

"  Mortimer  looked  at  me  with  a  sinister  smile. 

"  'You  are  provident!'  he  said,  briefly.  'I  understand.  The 
one  who  falls  will  give  no  trouble.  The  grave  will  await  him, 
and  he  can  enter  at  once  upon  his  property !' 

"'Yes.' 

'"And  this  lady?' 

"  '  That  will  come  afterward,'  I  said. 

'"If  I  kill  you— ?' 

"  '  She  is  your  property.' 

" 'And  if  you  kill  me— ?' 

" 'She  is  mine,' I  said. 

"  The  sinister  smile  again  came  to  the  dark  features  of  Morti- 
mer. 

"  '  So  be  it,'  he  said,  '  and  I  am  ready  to  accompany  you,  sir.' 
^  "I  drew  my  pistol  and  threw  it  upon  the  bed,  looking  at  Mor- 
timer as  I  did  so.  He  imitated  me,  and  opening  his  coat,  showed 
me  that  he  was  wholly  unarmed.  I  did  the  same,  and  having 
locked  the  private  door  leading  to  the  back  staircase,  led  the  way 
out,  followed  by  Mortimer.  He  turned  and"  looked  at  madam 
as  he  passed  through  the  door.  She  was  erect,  furious,  defiant, 
full  of  anticipated  triumph.  Was  it  a  glance  of  gloomy  compas- 
sion and  deep  tenderness  which  Mortimer  threw  toward  her  ?  I 
thought  I  heard  him  sigh. 

"  I  locked  the  door,  and  we  descended  to  the  library." 

IT 


892  MO  HUN. 

XXIV. 

WHAT   TOOK   PLACE  IN  FIFTY   MINUTES. 

"As  "WE  entered  the  apartment,  the  clock  on  the  mantel-piece 
struck  midniglit. 

"  My  body  servant  was  witliin  call,  and  I  ordered  my  carriage, 
wliich  Nighthawk  had  been  directed  to  have  ready  at  a  moment's 
warning. 

"In  five  minutes  it  was  at  the  door,  and  I  had  just  taken  the 
two  foils  under  my  arm,  when  I  heard  a  step  in  the  passage.  A 
moment  afterward,  Nighthawk  entered. 

"He  was  so  pale  that  I  scarcely  recognized  him.  When  his 
eyes  encountered  Mortimer,  they  flashed  lightnings  of  menace. 

"  '  Well  V  I  said,  in  brief  tones. 

"  '  It  is  ready,  sir,'  Xighthawk  replied,  in  a  voice  scarcely  au- 
dible.    I  looked  at  him  imperiously. 

"  '  And  the  servants  are  warned  to  keep  silent  ?' 

"'Yes,  sir.' 

"  '  Very  well.     Remain  here  until  I  return,'  I  said. 

"And  I  pointed  to  a  seat,  with  a  glance  at  Niglithawk,  which 
said  plainly  to  him,  '  Do  not  presume  to  attempt  to  turn  rae  from 
my  present  purpose — it  will  be  useless,  and  offensive  to  me.' 

"  He  groaned,  and  sat  down  in  the  seat  I  indicated.  His  frame 
was  bent  and  shrunken  like  that  of  an  old  man,  in  one  evening. 
Since  that  moment,  I  have  loved  Xighthawk,  my  dear  Surry  ; 
and  he  deserves  it. 

"  "Without  delay  I  led  the  way  to  the  carriage,  which  was  driv- 
en by  my  father's  old  gray-haired  coachman,  and  entered  it  with 
Mortimer,  directing  the  driver  to  follow  tlie  high-road  down  the 
river.  He  did  so  ;  we  rolled  on  in  the  moonlight,  or  the  shadow, 
as  it  came  forth  or  disappeared  behind  the  drifting  clouds.  The 
air  was  intensely  cold.  From  beyond  the  woods  came  the  hollow 
roar  of  the  Nottoway,  which  was  swollen  by  a  freshet. 

"  Mortimer  drew  his  cloak  around  him,  but  said  nothing.  In  ten 
minutes  I  called  to  the  old  coachman  to  stop.  He  checked  his 
spirited  horses — I  had  some  good  ones  then. — and  I  descended 


WHAT    TOOK    PLACE. 


393 


from  the  carrijige,  witli  the  foils  under  my  arm,  followed  hj  Mor- 
timer. 

"  The  old  coachman  looked  on  in  astonishment.  The  spot  at 
which  I  had  stopped  the  carriage  was  wild  and  dreary  beyond 
expression. 

'"Shall  I  wait,  sir?'  he  said,  respectfully. 

"  'iSTo;  return  home  at  once,  and  put  away  the  carriage.' 

"  He  looked  at  me  with  a  sort  of  stupor. 

"  '  Go  home,  sir  ?'  he  said. 

"'Yes.'     . 

"  '  And  leave  you  ?' 

'"Obey  me!' 

"  My  voice  must  have  shown  that  remonstrance  would  be  use- 
less. My  old  servitor  uttered  a  sigh  like  the  groan  which  had 
escaped  from  the  lips  of  is'ighthawk,  and,  mounting  the  box, 
turned  the  heads  of  his  horses  toward  home. 

"  I  watched  the  carriage  until  it  turned  a  bend  in  the  road,  and 
then,  making  a  sign  to  Mortimer  to  follow  me,  led  the  way  into  the 
woods.  Pursuing  a  path  which  the  moonlight  just  enabled  me  to 
perceive,  I  penetrated  the  forest ;  went  on  for  about  ten  minutes  ^ 
and  finally  emerged  upon  a  plateau,  in  the  swampy  undergrowth 
near  which  stood  the  ruins  of  an  old  chimney. 

''  This  chimney  had  served  to  indicate  the  spot  to  Nighthawk; 
and,  before  us,  in  the  moonlight,  was  the  evidence  that  lie  had 

found  it.     In  the  centre  of  the  plateau  was  a  newly  dug  grave 

and  in  front  of  it  I  paused. 

"  '  We  have  arrived,'  I  said. 

"  Mortimer  gazed  at  the  grave  with  a  grim  smile. 

"  '  That  is  a  dreary  and  desolate  object,'  he  said. 

"  'It  will  soon  be  inhabited,'  I  returned;  'and  the  issue  of  this 
combat  is  indifferent  to  me,  since  in  either  event  I  shall  be  dead.' 

"'Ah!'  he  exclaimed,  'explain  that.' 

"  '  Then  you  do  not  understand  !  You  think  this  duel  will  end 
every  thing  ?  You  deceive  yourself!  A  family  history  like  mine 
does  not  terminate  with  a  duel.  Have  you  read  those  tragedies 
where  everybody  is  killed  ?_where  not  a  single  one  of  the  dra- 
matis persoTKB  escapes  ?  Well,  this  is  going  to  be  a  drama  of  that 
exact  description.    Do  you  wish  to  save  that  woman,  yonder?    To 


394  MOnUN. 

do  so,  you  must  kill  me.  I  tell  you  that  to  warn  you  to  do  yoar 
best,  sir!' 

"  Mortimer  glared  at  me.  It  is  hard  to  imagine  a  glance  more 
sinister. 

*' '  So  you  have  arranged  the  whole  affair  ?'  he  suid  ;  '  there  is  to 
be  a  wholesale  killing.' 

"  '  Yes.' 

"  '  You  are  going  to  kill — her  ?' 

"'Yes.' 

'"Yourself,  too?' 

"'Yes.' 

"  Mortimer's  smile  became  more  sinister,  as  he  raised  his  foil. 

"  '  Take  your  position,  sir,'  he  said  ;  '  I  am  going  to  save  you  the 
latter  trouble.' 

"  I  grasped  my  weapon,  and  placed  myself  on  guard. 

"  In  an  instant  he  had  thrown  himself  upon  me  with  a  fury 
which  indicated  the  profound  passion  under  his  assumed  cool- 
ness. His  eyes  blazed;  his  lips  writhed  into  something  like  a 
deadly  grin  ;  I  felt  that  I  had  to  contend  rather  with  a  wild  ani- 
mal than  a  man.  The  grave  yawned  in  the  moonlight  at  our  very 
feet,  and  Mortimer  closed  in,  with  fury,  endeavoring  to  force  me 
to  its  brink,  and  hurl  me  into  it. 

"  Ten  minutes  afterward  the  combat  was  over ;  and  it  was 
Mortimer  who  occupied  the  grave. 

"  He  had  given  ground  an  instant,  to  breathe  ;  had  returned  to 
the  attack  more  furiously  than  before;  a  tremendous  blow  of  his 
weapon  snapped  my  own,  eighteen  inches  from  the  hilt;  but  this 
had  probably  saved  my  life  instead  of  destroying  it,  as  Mortimer, 
from  his  fierce  exclamation  as  the  blade  broke,  evidently  expected, 

"  Before  he  could  take  advantage  of  his  success,  I  sprang  at  his 
throat,  grasped  his  sword-arm  with  my  left  hand,  and,  shortening 
my  stump  of  a  weapou,  drove  the  point  through  his  breast. 

"  He  uttered  a  cry,  staggered,  and  threw  up  his  hands ;  I 
released  my  clutch  on  his  arm  ;  and  he  fell  heavily  backward  into 
the  grave. 

"  'Kow  to  end  aU,'  I  said,  and  I  set  out  rapidly  for  Fonthill." 


GOING    TO    REJOIN    MOETIMEE.         305 

XXV. 

GOING  TO  PvEJOIX  MORTIMER. 

"  I  HAD  not  gone  a  hundred  yards,  when  I  heard  the  sound  of 
wheels  approaching. 

"  I  had  said  to  myself,  '  I  am  going  back  to  madam ;  she  will 
hear  my  footsteps  upon  the  staircase ;  will  open  the  door ;  will 
rush  forward  to  embrace  me,  under  the  impression  that  I  am  her 
dear  Mortimer,  returning  triumphant  from  the  field  of  battle ; 
and  then  a  grand  tableau !'  Things  were  destined  to  turn  out  dif- 
ferently, as  you  will  see  in  an  instant. 

"  The  sound  of  wheels  grew  louder ;  a  carriage  appeared ; 
and  I  recognized  my  own  chariot. 

"  '  Why  have  you  disobeyed  my  orders  ?'  I  said  to  the  old  gray- 
haired  driver,  arresting  the  horses  as  I  spoke,  by  violently  grasping 
the  bridles. 

""  The  old  coachman  looked  frightened.  Then  he  said,  in  an 
agitated  voice  : — • 

"  'Madam  ordered  me  to  obey  her,  sir.' 

"'Madam?' 

'"Yes,  sir.' 

"  '  Where  is  she  V 

"  '  In  the  carriage,  sir.  As  soon  as  I  got  back,  she  came  down 
to  the  door — ordered  me  to  drive  her  to  you — and  I  was  obliged 
to  do  so,  sir.' 

"  '  Good,'  I  said,  'you  have  done  well.' 

"  And  opening  the  door  of  the  carriage,  through  the  glass  of 
which  I  saw  the  pale  face  of  the  woman,  I  entered  it,  directing 
the  coachman  to  drive  to  the  '  Hicksford  Crossing.' 

"  A  hoarse,  but  defiant  voice  at  my  side  said  : — 

"  '  Where  is  Mr.  Mortimer  V 

"  '  Gone  over  the  river,'  I  said,  laughing,  '  and  we  are  going,  too.' 

"  '  To  rejoin  him?' 

"  'Yes,  madam.' 

"  The  carriage  had  rolled  on,  and  as  it  passed  the  grave  I  heard 
a  groan. 


396  MOnUX. 

'"What  is  that?' said  she. 

"  'The  river  is  groaning  yonder,  madam.' 

"  '.You  will  not  attempt  to  pass  it  to-night?' 

"  'Yes,  madam.     Are  you  afraid  V 

"  She  looked  at  me  with  fiery  eyes. 

*' '  Afraid  ?     No  !'  she  said,  '  I  am  afraid  of  nothing !' 

"  I  reallv  admired  her  at  that  moment.  She  was  truly  brave. 
I  said  nothing,  however.  The  carriage  rolled  on,  and  ten  minutes 
afterward  the  roar  of  the  river,  now  near  at  hand,  was  heard. 
That  sound  mingled  with  the  deep  bellowing  of  the  thunder,  which 
succeeded  the  dazzling  flashes  at  every  instant  dividing  the  dark- 
ness. 

"All  at  once  my  companion  said: — 

"  '  I  am  tired  of  this — where  is  Mr.  Mortimer?' 

"  '  He  awaits  us,'  I  replied. 

"  'You  are  going  to  him  ?' 

"  '  Yes.' 

"We  had  reached  the  bank  of  the  river,  and,  stopping  the  car- 
riage, I  sprung  out.  Madam  followed  me,  without  being  invited. 
A  small  boat  rose  and  fell  on  the  swollen  current.  I  detached  the 
chain,  seized  a  paddle,  and  pointed  to  the  stern  seat. 

"  'The  river  is  dangerous  to-night,'  said  madam,  coldly. 

"  'Then  you  are  afraid,  after  all?' 

"'No!'  she  said. 

"And  with  a  firm  step  she  entered  the  boat. 

"  '  Go  back  with  the  carriage,'  I  said  to  the  driver.  Ue  turned 
the  heads  of  the  horses,  and  obeyed  in  silence. 

"  Madam  had  taken  her  seat  in  the  stern  of  the  boat.  I 
pushed  from  shore  into  the  current,  and  paddling  rapidly  to  the 
middle  of  the  foaming  torrent,  filled  with  drift-wood,  threw  the 
paddle  overboard,  and  took  my  seat  in  the  stern. 

"  As  I  threw  away  the  paddle,  my  resolution  seemed  to  dawn 
for  the  first  time  upon  my  companion.  She  had  become  deadly 
pale,  but  said  nothing.  With  folded  arms,  I  looked  and  listened; 
we  were  nearing  a  narrow  and  rock-studded  point  in  the  river, 
where  there  was  no  hope. 

"  The  frail  boat  was  going  to  be  overturned  there,  or  dashed  to 
pieces  without  mercy.     I  knew  the  spot — knew  that  there  was 


AFTERWARD.  397 

no  hope.  The  torrent  was  roaring  and  driving  the  boat  like  a 
leaf  toward  the  jagged  and  fatal  rock-s. 

"  '  Tlien  you  are  going  to  kill  me  and  yourself  at  the  same  time !' 
she  said. 

The  woman  was  fearless. 

"  'Yes,'  I  said,  'it  is  the  only  way.  I  could  not  live  dishon- 
ored— you  dishonored  me — I  die — and  die  with  you  !' 

"  And  I  rose  erect,  baring  my  forehead  to  the  lightning. 

"  The  point  was  reached.  The  boat  swept  on  with  the  speed 
of  a  race-horse.  A  dazzling  flash  showed  a  dark  object  amid  the 
foam,  right  ahead  of  us.  The  boat  rushed  toward  it— the  jagged 
teetli  seemed  grinning  at  us — the  boat  struck — and  the  next  mo- 
ment I  felt  the  torrent  sweep  over  me,  roaring  furious  and  sombre, 
like  a  wild  beast  that  has  caught  its  prey." 


XXVI. 

AFTERWARD. 


"  TThex  I  opened  my  eyes,  the  sun  was  shining  in  my  face. 

"  I  was  lying  on  a  mass  of  drift-wood,  caught  by  a  ledge  of 
rock,  jutting  out  into  the  river.  I  had  apparently  been  hurled 
there,  by  the  force  of  the  current,  stunned  and  bruised  ;  the  sun- 
shine had  aroused  me,  bringing  me  back  to  that  life  which  was  a 
burden  and  a  mockery. 

"  And  where  was  she  ?  I  shuddered  as  I  asked  myself  that 
question.  Had  she  been  thrown  from  tlie  boat  ?  Had  it  been 
overturned  ?  Was  she  drowned  ?  I  closed  my  eyes  with  a  shud- 
der which  traversed  my  body,  chilling  my  blood  as  with  the  cold 
hand  of  death. 

"  For  a  moment  I  thought  of  throwing  myself  into  the  river, 
and  thus  ending  all  my  woes.     But  I  was  too  cowardly. 

"  I  turned  toward  the  shore,  groaning ;  dragged  my  bruised 
and  acliing  limbs  along  the  ledge  of  jagged  rocks,  through  the 
masses  of  drift-wood  ;  and  finally  reached  the  shore,  where  I  sank 
down  exhausted,  and  ready  to  die. 


398  MOHUN. 

"  I  will  not  lengthen  out  the  gloomy  picture.  At  last  I  rose, 
looked  around,  and  with  bent  head  and  cowering  frame,  stole 
away  through  the  woods  toward  Fonthill.  On  my  way,  I  passed 
within  two  hundred  yards  of  the  grave — but  I  dared  not  go 
thither.  He  was  dead,  doubtless — and  he  had  been  slain  in  fair 
combat !  It  was  another  form  that  haunted  me — the  form  of  a 
woman — one  who  had  dishonored  me — attempted  to  poison  mo 
— a  terrible  being — but  still  a  woman  ;  and  I  had — murdered  her! 

"  I  reached  home  an  hour  or  two  afterward.  Nighthawk 
was  sitting  in  the  library,  pale  and  haggard,  watching  for  me. 

"  As  I  entered,  he  rose  with  an  exclamation,  extending  his  arms 
toward  me,  with  an  indescribable  expression  of  joy. 

"  I  shrunk  back,  refusing  his  hand. 

"  '  Do  not  touch  that,'  I  groaned,  'there  is  blood  on  it!' 

"  He  seized  it,  and  kneeling  down,  kissed  it. 

"  '  Bloody  or  not,  it  is  your  hand — the  hand  of  my  dear  young 
master!' 

"  And  the  honest  fellow  burst  into  tears,  as  he  covered  my 
hand  with  kisses. 

"  A  month  afterward,  I  was  in  Europe,  amid  the  whirl  and 
noise  of  Paris.  I  tried  to  forget  that  I  was  a  murderer — but  the 
shadow  went  with  me!" 


xxvn. 

MOHUX    TERMIXATES    HIS    NARRATIVE. 

MoHT'N'  had  spoken  throughout  the  earlier  portions  of  his  narra- 
tive in  a  tone  of  cvnical  bitterness.  His  last  words  were  mini:rled, 
however,  with  weary  sighs,  and  his  face  wore  an  expression  of  the 
profoundest  melancholy. 

The  burnt-out  cigar  had  fallen  from  his  fingers  to  the  floor ; 
he  leaned  back  languidly  in  his  great  arm-chair :  with  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  dying  fire,  he  seemed  to  go  back  in  memory  to  the  ter- 


NAPwRATIYE    TERMINATED.  399 

rible  scenes  just  described,  living  over  again  all  those  harsh  and 
contlicting  emotions. 

"  So  it  ended,  Surry,"  he  said,  after  a  long  pause.  "Such  was 
the  frightful  gulf  into  which  the  devil  and  my  own  passions 
pnslied  me,  in  that  month  of  December,  1856.  A  liand  as  irre- 
sistible and  inexorable  as  the  Greek  Necessity  had  led  me  step  by 
step  to  murder — in  intent  if  not  in  fact — and  for  years  the  shadow 
of  the  crime  which  I  believed  I  had  committed,  made  my  life 
wretched.  I  wandered  over  Europe,  planged  into  a  thousand 
scenes  of  turmoil  and  excitement — it  was  all  useless — still  the 
shadow  went  with  me.  Crime  is  a  terrible  companion  to  have 
ever  at  your  elbow.  The  Ati'a  cura  of  the  poet  is  nothing  to  it, 
friend!  It  is  a  fiend  which  will  not  be  driven  away.  It  grins,  and 
gibbers,  and  utters  its  gibes,  day  and  night.  Believe  me,  Surry, 
— I  speak  from  experience — it  is  better  for  this  world,  as  well  as 
the  next,  to  be  a  boor,  a  peasant,  a  clodhopper  with  a  clear  con- 
science, than  to  hold  in  your  hand  the  means  of  all  luxury,  and 
so-called  enjoyment,  and,  with  it,  the  consciousness  that  you  are 
blood  guilty  under  almost  any  circumstances. 

"  Some  men  might  have  derived  comfort  from  the  circum- 
stances of  that  crime.  I  could  not.  They  might  have  said,  '  I 
was  goaded,  stung,  driven,  outraged,  tempted  beyond  my  strength, 
caught  in  a  net  of  fire,  from  which  there  was  but  one  method  of 
exit — to  burst  out,  trampling  down  every  thing.'  Four  words 
silenced  all  that  sophistry — 'She  was  a  w^oman  I'  It  was  the 
face  of  that  woman,  as  I  saw  it  last  on  that  stormy  night  by  the 
lightnitfg  flashes,  which  drove  me  to  despair.  I,  the  son  of  the 
pure  gentleman  whose  portrait  is  yonder — I,  the  representative 
of  the  Mohuns,  a  family  which  had  acted  in  all  generations  accord- 
ing to  the  dictates  of  the  loftiest  honor — I,  had  put  to  death  a 
■woman,  and  that  thought  spurred  me  to  madness ! 

"  Of  his  death  I  did  not  think  in  the  same  manner,  I  had 
slain  him  in  fair  combat,  body  to  body — and,  however  the  law  of 
God  may  stigmatize  homicide,  there  was  still  that  enormous 
difference.  I  had  played  my  life  against  his,  as  it  were — he  had 
lost,  and  he  paid  the  forfeit.  But  the  other  was  murdered  !  That 
fact  stared  me  in  the  face.  She  had  dishonored  me  ;  tricked  me  ; 
attempted  to  poison,  and  then  shoot  me.     She  had  designed  to 


1 


ioo  mohu:n'. 

mnrder  me^  and  had  set  about  lier  design  deliberately,  coolly, 
williout  provocation,  impelled  by  tlie  lust  of  gold  only.  Slie 
deserved  punishment,  but — she  was  a  woman !  I  had  not  said 
'Go!'  either,  in  pointing  to  the  gloomy  patli  to  death.  I  liad  snid 
'  Cornel' — had  meant  to  die  too.  I  had  not  shrunk  from  the  tor- 
rent in  which  I  had  resolved  she  should  be  borne  away.  I  had 
gone  into  the  boat  with  her  ;  accompanied  her  on  her  way  ;  de- 
voted myself,  too,  to  death,  at  the  same  moment.  But  all  was 
useless.  I  said  to  mvself  a  thousand  times — '  at  least  ihev  can 
not  say  that  I  was  a  coward,  as  well  as  a  murderer.  The  last 
of  the  Mohuns  may  have  blackened  his  escutcheon  with  the  crime 
of  murder — but  at  least  he  did  not  spare  himself;  be  faced  death 
with  his  victinii'  Useless,  Surry — all  useless !  The  inexorable 
Voice  with  which  I  fenced,  had  only  one  reply — one  lunge — 'She 
jvas  a  woman  I'  and  the  words  pierced  me  like  a  sword-blade! 

"  Let  me  end  this,  but  not  before  I  say  that  the  dreadful  Voice 
was  right.  As  to  the  combat  with  Mortimer,  I  shall  express  no 
opinion.  You  know  the  facts,  and  will  judge  me.  But  the  other 
act  was  a  deadly  crime.  Gloss  it  over  as  you  may,  you  can  never 
justify  murder.  Use  all  the  special  pleading  possible,  and  the 
frightful  deed  is  still  as  black  in  the  e3'es  of  God  and  man  as 
before.  I  saw  that  soon;  saw  it  always  ;  see  it  to-day  ;  and  pray 
God  in  liis  infinite  mercvto  blot  out  that  crime  from  his  book — to 
pardon  the  poor  weak  creature  who  was  driven  to  madness,  and 
attempted  to  commit  that  deadly  sin. 

"  Well,  to  end  my  long  history.  I  remained  in  Europe  until 
the  news  from  America  indicated  the  approach  of  war^^Xight- 
hawk  managing  my  estate,  and  remitting  me  the  proceeds  at 
Paris.  When  I  saw  that  an  armed  collision  w^as  going  to  take 
place,  I  hastened  back,  reaching  Virginia  in  the  winter  of  1860. 
But  I  did  not  come  to  Fonthill.  I  had  a  horror  of  the  place. 
From  New  York,  where  I  landed,  I  proceeded  to  Montgomery, 
without  stopping  upon  the  route  ;  found  there  a  prominent  friend 
of  my  father  who  was  raising  a  brigade  in  the  Southwest:  was 
invited  by  him  to  aid  him ;  and  soon  afterward  was  elected  to 
the  command  of  a  company  of  cavalry  by  his  recommendation.  I 
need  only  add,  that  I  rose  gradually  from  captain  to  colonel,  which 
rank  1  lield  in  18^3,  wlion  we  first  met  on  the  Rappahannock — my 


NARRATIVE    TERMINATED.  401 

regiment  liaving  "been  transferred  to  a  brigade  of  General  Lee's 

cavalry. 

"  You  saw  me  then,  and  remember  my  bitterness  and  melan- 
choly. But  you  had  no  opportunity  to  descry  the  depth  and  in- 
tensity of  those  sentiments  in  m'e.  Suddenly  the  load  was  lifted. 
That  tcoman  made  her  appearance,  as  if  from  the  grave,  and  you 
must  have  witnessed  my  wonder,  as  ray  eyes  fell  upon  her.  Then, 
she  was  not  dead  after  all !  I  was  not  a  murderer  I  And  to  com- 
plete the  wonder,  he  was  also  alive.  A  man  passing  along  the  bank 
of  the  river,  as  I  discovered  afterward  from  Nigh  thaw  k,  who  ferret- 
ed out  the  whole  affair— a  man  named  Swartz,  a  sort  of  poor  farmer 
and  huckster,  passing  along  the  Nottoway,  on  the  morning  after 
the  storm,  had  found  the  woman  cast  ashore,  with  the  boat  over- 
turned near  her ;  and  a  mile  farther,  had  found  Mortimer,  not  yet 
dead,  in  the  grave.  Succored  by  Swartz,  they  had  both  re- 
covered— had  then  disappeared.  I  was  to  meet  them  again,  and 
know  of  their  existence  only  when  the  chance  of  war  threw  us 
face  to  face  on  the  field. 

"  You  know  the  scenes  which  followed.  Mortimer,  or  Darke, 
as  he  now  calls  himself,  confronted  me  everywhere,  and  she 
seemed  to  have  no  object  iu  life  but  my  destruction.  You  heard 
her  boast  in  the  house  near  Buckland  that  she  had  thrice  at- 
tempted to  assassinate  me  by  means  of  her  tool,  the  man  Swartz. 
Again,  at  Warrenton,  in  the  hospital,  she  came  near  poniarding 
me  with  her  own  hand.  Nighthawk,  who  had  followed  me  to 
the  field,  and  become  a  secret  agent  of  General  Stuart,  warned  me 
of  all  this— and  one  day,  gave  me  information  more  startling  still. 
And  this  brings  me,  my  dear  Surry,  to  the  last  point  in  my  nar- 
rative. I  now  enter  upon  matter  with  which  you  have  been  per- 
sonally 'mixed  up.' 

"  On  that  night  when  I  attacked  Darke  in  his  house  in  Pennsyl- 
vania, Swartz  stole  a  paper  from  madam— the  certificate  of  her 
marriage  with  Mr.  Mortiraer-Darke,  or  Darke-Mortimer.  Tlie 
object  of  Swartz  was,  to  sell  the  paper  to  me  for  a  large  sum,  as  he 
had  gotten  an  inkling  of  the  state  of.affuirs,  and  my  relation  with 
madam.  Well,  Nighthawk  reported  this  immediately,  made  an 
api)ointment  to  meet  Swartz  in  the  Wilderness,  and  many  times 
afterward   attempted   to   gain   possession   of  the   paper,   which 


402  '  MO  HUN. 

Swartz  swore  was  a  honafide  certificate  of  the  marriage  of  these 
two  persons  hefore  the  year  1850,  wlien  I  first  met  thera. 

"  You,  doubtless,  understand  now,  my  dear  Surry,  my  great 
anxiety  to  gain  possession  of  that  paper.  Or,  if  you  do  not,  I 
have  only  to  state  one  fact — that  will  explain  all.  I  am  engaged 
to  be  married  to  Miss  Conway,  and  am  naturally  anxious  to  have 
the  proof  in  my  possession  that  I  have  not  one  icife  yet  living! 
I  know  that  icoman  well.  She  will  stop  at  nothing.  The  rumor 
that  I  am  about  to  become  the  happy  husband  of  a  young  lady 
whom  I  love,  has  driven  madam  nearly  frantic,  and  she  has 
already  shown  her  willingness  to  stop  at  nothing,  by  imprisoning 
Swartz,  and  starving  him  until  he  produced  the  stolen  paper. 
Swartz  is  dead,  however;  the  paper  is  lost;  I  and  madam  are 
both  in  hot  pursuit  of  the  document.  Which  will  find  it,  I  know 
not.  She,  of  course,  wishes  to  suppress  it — I  wish  to  possess  it. 
"Where  is  it  ?  If  yon  will  tell  me,  friend,  I  will  make  you  a  deed 
for  half  my  estate!  You  have  been  with  me  to  visit  that  strange 
woman,  Amanda,  as  a  forlorn  hope.  What  will  come  I  know  not; 
but  I  trust  that  an  all-merciful  Providence  will  not  withdraw  its 
hand  from  me,  and  now  dash  all  my  hopes,  at  the  very  moment 
when  the  cup  is  raised  to  my  lips !  If  so,  I  will  accept  all,  sub- 
missively, as  the  just  punishment  of  my  great  crime — a  crime,  I 
pray  God  to  pardon  me,  as  the  result  of  mad  desperation,  and 
not  as  a  wanton  and  wilful  defiance  of  His  Almighty  authority !  I 
have  wept  tears  of  blood  for  that  act.  I  have  turned  and  tossed 
on  my  bed,  in  the  dark  hours  of  night,  groaning  and  pleading  for 
pardon,  I  have  bitterly  expiated  throughout  long  years,  that 
brief  tragedy.  I  have  humbled  myself  in  the  dust  before  the 
Lord  of  all  worlds,  and,  falling  at  the  feet  of  the  all-merciful 
Saviour,  besought  His  divine  compassion.  I  am  proud — no  man 
was  ever  prouder — but  I  have  bowed  my  forehead  to  the  dust, 
and  if  the  Almighty  now  denies  me  the  supreme  consolation  of 
this  pure  girl's  affection, — if  loving  her  as  I  do,  and  beloved  by 
her,  as  I  may  venture  to  tell  you,  friend,  I  am  to  see  myself 
thrust  back  from  this  future — then,  Surry,  I  will  give  the  last 
proof  of  my  submission  :  I  will  bow  down  my  head,  and  say 
'  Thy  will,  not  mine.  Lord,  be  done  I  '  " 

Mohnn's  head  sank  as  he  uttered  the  words.      To  the  proud 


CTAPvRATIVE    TERMINATED.  403 

face  came  an  expression  of  deep  solemnitj  and  touching  sweet- 
ness. The  firm  lips  were  relaxed — the  piercing  eyes  had  become 
soft.  Mohun  was  greater  in  his  weakness  than  he  had  ever  been 
in  his  strength. 

When  an  hour  afterward  we  had  mounted  our  horses,  and 
were  riding  back  slowly  through  the  night,  I  said,  looking  at  hira 
by  the  dim  starlight: — 

"  This  is  no  longer  a  gay  young  cavalryman — a  mere  thought- 
less youth — but  a  patriot,  fit  to  live  or  die  with  Lee !" 


¥ 


40J:  MOHUN-, 


BOOK  V. 


THE     DEAD     GO     FAST. 


I. 

THE   "  DOOMED   CITY  "  IN  PROFILE— DECEMBER,  1864. 

The  scenes  just  described  took  place  in  the  month  of  Novem- 
ber. In  December  I  obtained  the  priceless  boon  of  a  few  days' 
leave  of  absence,  and  paid  a  visit  to  Richmond. 

There  was  little  there  of  a  cheerful  character;  all  was  sombre  and 
lugubrious.  In  the  "doomed  city,"  as  throughout  the  whole 
country,  all  tilings  were  going  to  wreck  and  ruin.  During  the  sum- 
mer and  autumn,  suffering  had  oppressed  the  whole  community;* 
but  now  misery  clutched  the  very  heartstrings.  Society  had  been 
convulsed — now,  all  the  landmarks  of  the  past  seemed  about  to 
disappear  in  the  deluge.  Richmond  presented  the  appearance, 
and  lived  after  the  manner,  of  a  besieged  city,  as  G-eneral  Grant 
called  it.  It  no  longer  bore  the  least  likeness  to  its  former  peace- 
ful and  orderly  self.  The  military  police  had  usurped  the  func- 
tions of  the  civil,  and  the  change  was  for  the  worse.  Garroters 
swarmed  the  streets  of  the  city  after  dark.  House-breakers 
everywhere  carried  on  their  busy  occupation.  Nothing  was  safe 
from  these  prowlers  of  the  night;  all  was  fish  for  their  nets.  The 
old  clothes  in  rags  and  bales;  the  broken  china  and  worn  spoons; 
the  very  food,  obtained  through  immense  exertions  by  some 
father  to  feed  his  clvildren — all  became  the  spoil  of  these  night- 
birds,  who  were  ever  on  the  watch.  When  you  went  to  make  a 
visit  in  the  evening,  you  took  your  hat  and  cloak  with  you  into 
the  drawing-room,  to  have  them  under  your  eye.  When  you  re- 
tired at  night,  you  deposited  your  watch  and  purse  under  your 


THE    "DOOMED    CITY."  405 

pillow.  At  the  hotels,  von  never  thought  of  placing  your  boots 
outside  the  door;  and  the  landlords,  in  the  morning,  carefally 
looked  to  see  if  the  towels,  or  the  blankets  of  the  beds  had  been 
stolen.  All  things  were  thus  unhinged.  Misery  had  let  loose 
npon  the  community  all  the  outlaws  of  civilization  ;  the  scum 
and  dregs  of  society  had  come  to  the  top,  and  floated  on  the  sur- 
face in  the  sunlight. 

The  old  respectable  population  of  the  old  respectable  city  had 
disappeared,  it  seemed.  The  old  respectable  habitudes  had  fallen 
into  contempt.  Gambling-houses  swarmed  everywhere';  and 
the  military  police  ignored  them.  "  The  very  large  number  of 
houses,"  said  a  cotemporary  journal,  "on  Main  and  other  streets, 
which  have  numbers  painted  in  large  gilt  figures  over  the  door, 
and  illuminated  at  night,  are  faro  banks.  The  fact  is  not  known 
to  the  public.  The  very  large  numbers  of  flashily  dressed  young 
men,  with  villainous  faces,  who  hang  about  the  street  corners  in 
the  daytime,  are  not  gamblers,  garroters,  and  plugs,  but  young 
men  studying  for  the  ministry,  and  therefore  exempt  from  military 
duty.  This  fact  is  not  known  to  General  Winder."  The  quiet 
and  orderly  city  had,  in  a  word,  become  the  haunt  of  burglars, 
gamblers,  adventurers,  blockade-runners.  The  city,  once  the 
resort  of  the  most  elegant  society  in  Virginia,  had  been  changed 
by  war  and  misery  into  a  strange  chaotic  caravanserai,  where 
you  looked  with  astonishment  on  the  faces  going  and  coming, 
without  knowing  in  the  least  "  who  was  who,"  or  whether  your 
acquaintance  was  an  honest  man  or  a  scoundrel.  The  scoundrels 
dressed  in  excellent  clothes,  and  smiled  and  bowed  when  vou 
met  them ;  it  was  nearly  the  sole  means  of  identifying  them,  at 
an  epoch,  when  virtue  almost  always  went  in  rags. 

The  era  of  "  social  unrealities,"  to  use  the  trenchant  phrase  of 
Daniel,  had  come.  Even  braid  on  sleeves  and  collars  did  not  tell 
you  much.  Who  was  the  fine-looking  Colonel  Blank,  or  the 
martial  General  Asterisks?  Was  he  a  gentleman  or  a  barber's 
boy — an  F.  F.  somewhere,  or  an  ex-drayman  ?  The  general  and 
colonel  dressed  richly;  lived  at  the  "  Spottswood  ;"  scowled  on 
the  common  people  ;  and  talked  magnificently.  It  was  only  when 
some  young  lady  linked  her  destiny  to  his,  that  she  found  herself 
united    to    quite   a   surprising    helpmate— discovered    that    the 


406  MOHUK 

general  or  the  colonel  had  issued  from  the  shambles  or  the 
gutter. 

Better  society  was  not  wanting;  bnt  it  remained  largely  in  the 
background.  Vice  was  strutting  in  cloth  of  gold  ;  virtue  was  at 
home  mending  its  rags.  Every  expedient  was  resorted  to,  not 
so  much  to  keep  up  appearances  as  to  keep  the  wolf  from  tlie 
door.  Servants  were  sent  around  by  high-born  ladies  to  sell, 
anonvmouslv,  baskets  of  their  clothes.  Tiie  silk  or  velvet  of  old 
days  ivas  now  parted  with  for  bread.  On  the  shelves  of  the 
bookstores  were  valuable  private  libraries,  placed  there  for 
sale.  In  the  shops  of  the  silversmiths  were  seen  breastpins, 
watches,  bracelets,  pearl  and  diamond  necklaces,  wliich  their 
owners  were  obliged  to  part  with  for  bread.  "  Could  we  have 
traced,"  says  a  late  writer,  "  the  history  of  a  set  of  pearls,  we 
should  have  been  told  of  a  fair  bride,  who  had  received  them 
from  a  proud  and  happy  bridegroom ;  but  whose  life  had  been 
blighted  in  her  youthful  happiness  by  the  cruel  blast  of  war — 
whose  voung  husband  was  in  the  service  of  his  countrv — to  whom 
stark  poverty  had  continued  to  come,  until  at  last  the  wedding 
present  from  the  dear  one,  went  to  purchase  food  and  raiment. 

A  richly  bound  volume  of  poems,  with  here  and 

there  a  faint  pencil-marked  quotation,  told  perchance  of  a  lover 
perished  on  some  bloody  field;  and  the  precious  token  was  dis- 
posed of,  or  pawned,  when  bread  was  at  last  needed  for  some 
suffering  loved  one." 

You  can  see  these  poor  women — can  you  not,  reader  ?  The 
bride  looking  at  her  pearl  necklace,  with  flushed  cheeks  and  eyes 
full  of  tears,  murmuring  : — '"Ee  gave  me  this — placed  it  around 
my  neck  on  my  wedding  day — and  I  must  sell  it !"  You  can  sec 
too,  the  fair  girl,  bending  down  and  dropping  tears  on  the  page 
marked  by  her  dead  lover ;  her  bosom  heaving,  her  heart  breaking, 
her  lips  whispering  : — ^'His  hand  touched  this — we  read  this  page 
together — I  hear  his  voice — see  his  smile — this  book  brings  back 
all  to  me — and  now,  I  must  go  and  sell  it,  to  buy  bread  for  my 
little  sister  and  brother,  who  are  starving  I" 

That  is  dolorous,  is  it  not,  reader? — and  strikes  you  to  the  heart. 
It  is  not  fancy.     December,  186-i,  saw  that,  and  more,  in  Virginia. 


RUIN    OF    THE    CONFEDERACY.  407 


II. 

« 

THE   MEN   WHO    RUINED   THE   CONFEDERACY. 

In  the  streets  of  Richmond,  crowded  with  uniforms,  in  spite  of 
the  patrols,  marching  to  and  fro,  and  examining  "  papers,"  I  met 
a  number  of  old  acquaintances,  and  saw  numerous  familiar  faces. 

The  "Spottswood"  was  the  resort  of  the  miUtaires,  and  the 
moneyed  people.  Here,  captains  and  colonels  were  elbowed  by 
messieurs  the  blockade  -  runners,  and  mysterious  government 
employes — employed,  as  I  said  on  a  former  occasion,  in  heaven 
knows  what.  The  officer  stalked  by  in  his  braid.  The  "  Tro- 
chilus  "  passed,  smiling,  in  shiny  broadcloath.  Listen !  yonder  is 
the  newsboy,  shouting,  ^''T\xq  Excnniner  f'' — that  is  to  say,  tho 
accurate  photograph  of  this  shifting  chaos,  where  nothing  seems 
stationary  long  enough  to  have  its  picture  taken. 

Among  the  first  to  squeeze  my  hand,  with  winning  smiles  and 
cordial  welcome,  was  my  friend  Air.  Blocque.  He  was  clad  more 
richly  than  before  ;  smiled  more  sweetly  than  ever  ;  seemed  more 
prosperous,  better  satisfied,  firmer  in  his  conviction  than  ever 
that  the  President  and  the  administration  had  never  committed  a 
fault — that  the  world  of  December,  1864,  was  the  best  of  all  pos- 
sible worlds. 

"My  dear  colonel!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pangloss-Trochilus,  alias 
Mr.  Blocque,  "  delighted  to  see  you,  I  assure  you !  You  are 
well  ?  You  will  dine  with  me,  to-day  ?  At  five  precisely  ?  You 
will  find  the  old  company — jolly  companions,  every  one !  We 
meet  and  talk  of  the  affairs  of  the  country.  All  is  going  on  well, 
colonel.  Our  city  is  quiet  and  orderly.  The  government  sees 
farther  than  its  assailants.  It  can  not  explain  now,  and  set  itself 
right  in  the  eyes  of  the  people — that  would  reveal  military  secrets 
to  the  enemy,  you  know.  I  tell  my  friends  in  the  departments 
not  to  mind  their  assailants.  Washington  himself  was  maligned, 
but  he  preserved  a  dignified  silence.  All  is  well,  colonel!  I 
give  you  my  word,  we  are  all  right!  I  know  a  thing  or  two 
!"  and  Mr.  Blocque  looked  mysterious.     "  I  have  friends  in 


408  MOHUN 

high  quarters,  and  you  can  rely  on  my  statement.  Lee  is  going 
to  whip  Grant  .  The  people  are  rallying  to  the  flag.  The 
finances  are  improving.  The  resources  of  the  country  are  un- 
touched. A  little  patience — only  a  very  little  patience !  I  tell 
my  friends.  Let  us  only  endure  trials  and  hardships  with  brave 
hearts.  Let  us  not  murmur  at  dry  bread,  colonel — let  us  cheer- 
fully dress  in  rags — let  us  deny  ourselves  every  thing,  sacrifice 
every  thing  to  the  cause,  cast  away  all  superfluities,  shoulder  our 
muskets,  and  fight  to  the  death  !  Then  there  can  be  no  doubt  of 
the  result,  colonel — good  morning  I" 

And  Mr.  Blocque  shook  ray  hand  cordially,  gliding  away  in  his 
shiny  broadcloth,  at  the  moment  when  Mr.  Croker,  catching  my 
eye  in  passing,  stopped  to  speak  to  mo. 

"  You  visit  Richmond  at  an  inauspicious  moment,  colonel,"  said 
Mr.  Croker,  jingling  his  watch-seals  with  dignity.  ''  The  country 
has  at  last  reached  a  point  from  which  ruin  is  apparent  in  no  very 
distant  perspective,  and  when  the  hearts  of  the  most  resolute,  in 
view  of  the  depressing  influences  of  the  situation,  are  well  nigh 
tempted  to  surrender  every  anticipation  of  ultimate  success  in  the 
great  cause  which  absorbs  the  energies  of  the  entire  country — 
hem  ! — at  large.  The  cause  of  every  trouble  is"  so  plain,  that  it 
would  be  insulting  your  good  judgment  to  dwell  upon  the  ex- 
planation. The  administration  has  persistently  disregarded  the 
wishes  of  the  people,  and  the  best  interests  of  the  entire  commu- 
nity ;  and  we  have  at  last  reached  a  point  where  to  stand  still  is 
as  ruinous  as  to  go  on — as  Ave  are  going — to  certain  destruction 
and  annihilation.  Look  at  the  finances,  entirely  destroyed  by  the 
bungling  and  injudicious  course  of  the  honorable  Mr.  Memminger, 
who  has  proceeded  upon  fallacies  which  the  youngest  tyro  would 
disdain  to  refute.  Look  at  the  quartermaster's  department, — the 
commissary  department, — the  State  department,  and  the  war 
department,  and  you  will  everywhere  find  the  proofs  of  utter  in- 
competence, leading  straight,  as  I  have  before  remarked,  to  that 
ruin  which  is  pending  at  the  present  moment  over  the  country. 
Our  society  is  uprooted,  and  there  is  no  hope  for  the  country. 
Blockade-runners,  forestallers,  stragglers  from  the  army — Good 
morning,  Colonel  Desperade ;  I  was  just  speaking  to  our  friend, 
Colonel  Surrv."' 


EUIN    OF    THE    CONFEDEEACY.  409 

And  leaving  itie  in  the  hands  of  the  tall,  smiling,  and  imposing 
Colonel  Desperade,  who  was  clad  in  a  magnificent  uniform,  Mr. 
Croaker,  forestaller  and  extortioner,  continued  his  way  with  dig- 
nity toward  his  counting  house. 

"This  is  a  very  great  pleasure,  colonel!"  exclaimed  Colonel 
D'esperade,  squeezing  my  hand  with  ardor.  "  Just  from  the  lines, 
colonel?  Any  news?  We  are  still  keeping  Grant  off!  He  will 
find  himself  checkmated  by  our  boys  in  gray  !  The  country  was 
never  in  better  trim  for  a  good  hard  fight.  The  immortal  Lee  is 
in  fine  spirits — the  government  steadily  at  work — and  do  you 
know,  my  dear  colonel,  I  am  in  luck  to-day?  I  am  certain  to 
receive  my  appointment  at  last,  as  brigadier-general — " 

"Look  out,  or  you'll  be  mistaken!"  said  a  sarcastic  voice  be- 
hind us.  And  Mr.  Torpedo,  smoking  a  short  and  fiery  cigar, 
stalked  up  and  shook  hands  with  me. 

"  Desperade  depends  on  the  war  department,  and  is  a  ninny 
for  doing  so!"  said  Mr.  Torpedo,  member  of  Congress.  "The 
man  that  depends  on  Jeff  Davis,  or  his  war  secretary,  is  a  double- 
distilled  dolt.  Jeff  thinks  he's  a  soldier,  and  apes  Napoleon.  But 
you  can't  depend  on  him,  Desperade.  Look  at  Johnston !  He 
fooled  him.  Look  at  Beauregard — he  envies  and  fears  Am,  so  he 
keeps  him  down.  Don't  depend  on  the  President,  Desperade,  or 
you'll  be  a  fool,  my  friend  !" 

And  Mr.  Torpedo  walked  on,  puflBng  away  at  the  fiery  stump 
of  his  cigar,  and  muttering  curses  against  President  Davis. 

An  hour  afterward,  I  was  conversing  in  the  rotunda  of  the  Capi- 
tol, with  the  high-bred  and  smiling  old  cavalier,  Judge  Conway, 
and  he  was  saying  to  me : — 

"The  times  are  dark,  colonel,  I  acknowledge  that.  But  all 
would  be  well,  if  we  could  eradicate  abuses  and  bring  out  our 
strength.  A  fatality,  however,  seems  pursuing  us.  The  block- 
ade-runners drain  the  country  of  the  little  gold  which  is  left 
in  it;  the  forestallers  run  up  prices,  and  debase  the  currency  be- 
yond hope ;  the  able-bodied  and  healthy  men  who  ought  to  be  in 
the  army,  swarm  in  the  streets;  and  the  bitter  foes  of  the  Presi- 
dent poison  the  public  mind,  and  infuse  into  it  despair.  It  is  this, 
colonel,  not  our  weakness,  which  is  going  to  ruin  us,  if  we  are 
ruined!" 


410  MOHUK. 


in. 

MY  LAST  VISIT  TO  JOHX  M.   DANIEL. 

On  the  night  before  my  return  to  the  army,  I  paid  my  last  visit 
to  John  M.  Daniel. 

Shall  I  show  you  a  great  career,  shipwrecked — paint  a  mighty 
ship  run  upon  the  breakers?  The  current  of  our  narrative  drags 
US  toward  passionate  and  tragic  events,  but  toward  few  scenes 
more  sombre  than  that  which  I  witnessed  on  this  night  ia 
December,  1864. 

I  found  John  M.  Daniel  in  his  house  on  Broad  Street,  as  before ; 
perched  still  in  his  high  chair  of  black  horse-hair,  all  alone.  His 
face  was  thinner ;  his  cheeks  more  sallow,  and  now  haggard  and 
sunken ;  his  eyes  sparkling  with  gloomy  fire,  as  he  half  reclined 
beneath  the  cluster  of  globe  lamps,  depending  from  the  ceiling, 
and  filling  the  whole  apartment  with  their  brilliant  light — one  of 
his  weaknesses. 

He  received  me  with  grim  cordiality,  offered  me  a  cigar,  and 
said : — 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  colonel,  and  to  offer  you  one  of  the  last 
of  my  stock  of  Havanas.  Wilmington  is  going  soon — then  good- 
bye to  blockade  goods." 

"You  believe  Wilmington  is  going  to  fall,  then?" 

"As  surely  as  Savannah." 

"  Savannah !  You  think  that  ?  We  are  more  hopeful  at 
Petersburg." 

"  Hopeful  or  not,  colonel,  I  am  certain  of  what  I  say.  Remem- 
ber my  prediction  when  it  is  fulfilled.  The  Yankees  are  a  theat- 
rical people.  They  take  Yicksburg,  and  win  Gettysburg,  on  their 
'  great  national  anniversary ;'  and  now  they  are  going  to  present 
themselves  with  a  handsome  '  Christmas  gift ' — that  is  the  city  of 
Savannah." 

He  spoke  with  evident  difficulty,  and  his  laboring  voice,  like  his 
haggard  cheeks,  showed  that  he  had  been  ill  since  I  last  saw 
him. 


MY   LAST   VISIT    TO   J.   M.   DANIEL.      Ul 

"  Savannah  captured,  or  surrendered!"  I  said,  with  knit  brows. 
"  What  will  be  the  result  of  that?" 

"  Euin,"  was  the  curt  response. 

"Not  the  loss  of  a  mere  town?" 

"  No  ;  the  place  itself  is  nothing.  For  Sherman  to  take  it  will 
not  benefit  him  much  ;  but  it  will  prove  to  the  country,  and  the 
President,  that  he  is  irresistible.  Then  thej  will  hach)  and  you 
will  see  the  beginning  of  the  end." 

''  That  is  a  gloomy  view  enough." 

"  Yes— every  thing  is  gloomy  now.  The  devil  of  high-headed 
obstinacy  and  incompetence  rules  aifairs.  I  do  not  croak  in 
the  Examiner  newspaper.  But  we  are  going  straight  to  the 
devil." 

As  he  uttered  these  words,  he  placed  his  hand  upon  his  breast, 
and  closed  his  eyes,  as  though  he  were  going  to  faint. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  I  exclaimed,  rising  abruptly,  and 
approaching  him. 

"Nothing!"  he  replied,  in  a  weak  voice;  "don't  disturb  vour- 
self  about  me.  These  fits  of  faintness  come  on,  now  and  thJn,  in 
consequence  of  an  attack  of  pneumonia  which  I  had  lately.  Sit 
down,  colonel.  You  must  really  pardon  me  for  saying  it,  but  you 
make  me  nervous." 

There  was  nothing  in  the  tone  of  this  singular  address  to  take 
offence  at,— the  voice  of  the  speaker  was  perfectly  courteous,— 
and  I  resumed  my  seat. 

"  We  were  talking  about  Sherman,"  he  said.  "  They  call  him 
Gog,  Magog,  anti-Christ,  I  know  not  what,  in  the  clerical  circles 
of  this  city!" 

His  lip  curled  as  he  spoke. 

"  One  reverend  divine  publicly  declared  the  other  day,  that 
'  God  had  put  a  hook  in  Sherman's  nose,  and  was  leading  him  to 
his  destruction!'     I  don't  think  it  looks  much  like  it!" 

The  speaker  was  stopped  by  a  fit  of  coughing,  and  when  it  had 
subsided,  leaned  hack,  faint  and  exhausted,  in  his  chair. 

"The  fact  is— Sherman— "  he  said,  with  difiiculty,  "seems  to 
have — the  hook  in — our  nose  !" 

There  was  something  grim  and  lugubrious  in  the  smile  which 
accompanied  tlie  painfully  uttered  words.     A  long  silence  fol- 


412  '         MOHUN. 

lowed  them,  wliicli  was  broken  by  neither  of  us.  At  last  I  raised 
my  head,  and  said  : — 

*'  I  find  you  less  hopeful  than  last  summer.  At  that  time  yon 
were  in  good  spirits,  and  the  tone  of  the  Examiner  was  buoyant." 

"It  is  hopeful  still,"  he  replied,  "  but  by  an  effort — from  a 
sentiment  of  duty.  I  often  write  far  more  cheerfully  than  I 
feel,  colonel."* 

"  Your  views  have  changed,  I  perceive — but  you  change  with 
the  whole  country." 

"  Yes.  A  whole  century  has  passed  since  last  August,  when 
you  visited  me  here.  One  by  one,  we  have  lost  all  that  the 
country  could  depend  on — hope  goes  last.  For  myself,  I  began 
to  doubt  when  Jackson  fell  at  Chancellorsville,  and  I  have  been 
doubting,  more  or  less,  ever  since.  He  was  a  dominant  man^ 
colonel,  fit,  if  any  thing  happened^  to  rise  to  the  head  of  affairs.* 
Oil !  for  an  hour  of  Jackson !  Oh  !  for  a  day  of  our  dead  Dun- 
dee!"* 

The  face  of  the  speaker  glowed,  and  I  shall  never  forget  the 
flash  of  his  dark  eye,  as  he  uttered  the  words,  ''if  any  thing  hap- 
pened." There  was  a  whole  volume  of  menace  to  President 
Davis  in  those  words. 

''But  this  is  useless  !"  he  went  on  ;  "Jackson  is  dead,  and  there 
is  none  to  take  his  place.  So,  without  leaders,  with  every  sort 
of  incompetence,  with  obstinacy  and  stupidity  directing  the 
public  councils,  and  shaping  the  acts  of  the  administration,  we  are 
gliding  straight  into  the  gulf  of  destruction." 

I  could  make  no  reply.  The  words  of  this  singular  man  and 
profound  thinker,  affected  me  dolefully. 

"  Y^'es,  colonel,"  he  went  on,  "the  three  or  four  months  which 
have  passed  since  your  last  visit,  have  cleared  away  all  mists  from 
my  eyes  at  least,  and  put  an  end  to  all  my  dreams — among  others, 
to  that  project  which  I  spoke  of — the  purchase  and  restoration 
of  the  family  estate  of  Stafford.  It  will  never  be  restored  by  me. 
Like  Randolph,  I  am  the  last  of  ray  line." 

And  with  eyes  full  of  a  profound  melancholy,  the  speaker  gazed 
into  the  fire. 

"I  am  passing  away  with  the  country,"  he  added.    "The  cause 

*  His  words. 


MY  LAST  VISIT   TO  J.   M.   DANIEL.       413 

is  going  to  fail.  I  give  it  three  months  to  end  in,  and  have  sent 
for  a  prominent  senator,  who  may  be  able  to  do  something.  I 
intend  to  say  to  him,  '  The  time  has  come  to  make  the  best  terms 
possible  with  the  enemy,'  and  I  shall  place  the  columns  of  the 
Examiner  newspaper  at  his  disposal  to  advocate  tliat  policy."  * 

"Is  it  possible  !"  I  said.  "Frankly,  I  do  not  think  things  are 
so  desperate." 

"  You  are  a  soldier,  and  hopeful,  colonel.  The  smoke  blinds  you." 

"  And  yet  General  Lee  is  said  to  repudiate  negotiations  with 
scorn.  He  is  said  to  have  lately  replied  to  a  gentleman  who  ad- 
vised them,  '  For  myself,  I  intend  to  die  sword  in  hand!'  " 

"  General  Lee  is  a  soldier — and  you  know  w^hat  the  song  says : 
'  A  soldier's  business,  boys,  is  to  die!'  " 

I  could  find  no  reply  to  the  grim  w^ords. 

"I tell  you  the  cause  is  lost,  colonel!"  with  feverish  energy, 
"lost  irremediably,  at  this  moment  while  we  are  speaking !  It  is 
lost  from  causes  which  are  enough  to  make  the  devil  laugh,  but 
it  is  lost  all  the  same !  When  the  day  of  surrender,  and  Yankee 
domination  comes — when  the  gentlemen  of  the  South  are  placed 
under  the  heel  of  negroes  and  Yankees — I,  for  one,  wish  to  die. 
Happy  is  the  man  who  shall  have  gotten  into  the  grave  before 
that  day  !t  Blessed  will  be  the  w-oraan  who  has  never  given 
suck !  t  Yes,  the  best  thing  for  me  is  to  die — land  I  am  going  to 
do  so.     I  shall  not  see  that  Dies  Irob  !     I  shall  be  in  my  grave  ! 

And  breathing  heavily,  the  journalist  again  leaned  back  iu  his 
chair,  as  though  about  to  faint. 

An  hour  afterward,  I  terminated  my  visit,  and  went  out,  op- 
pressed and  gloomy. 

This  singular  man  had  made  a  reluctant  convert  of  me  to  his 
own  dark  views.  The  cloud  which  wrapped  him,  now  darkened 
me — from  the  black  future  I  saw  the  lightnings  dart  already. 

His  predictions  were  destined  to  have  a  very  remarkable  ful- 
filment. 

On  the  21st  of  December,  a  few  days  after  our  interview, 
Sherman  telegraphed  to  Lincoln: — 

*  This,  I  learned  afterward,  from  the  Hon.  Mr. ,  was  duly  done  by  Mr.  Daniel. 

But  it  was  too  late. 
t  His  words. 


4:U  MOHUN. 

"I  beg  to  present  you,  as  a  Christmas  gift,  the  citv  of  Sa- 
vannah, with  one  hundred  and  fifty  guns,  and  plenty  of  ammuni- 
tion, and  also  about  twenty-five  thousand  bales  of  cotton." 

In  January,  Wilmington  fell. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  same  month,  John  M.  Daniel  was  a 
second  time  seized  with  pneumonia,  and  took  to  his  bed,  from 
which  he  was  never  again  to  rise.  He  would  see  no  one  but  his 
physician  and  a  few  chosen  friends.  All  other  persons  were  per- 
sistently denied  admittance  to  his  chamber.  Lingering  through- 
out the  remainder  of  winter,  as  spring  approached,  life  seemed 
gradually  leaving  him.  Day  by  day  his  pulse  grew  weaker. 
You  would  have  said  that  this  man  was  slowly  dying  with  the 
cause  for  which  he  had  fought;  that  as  the  life-blood  oozed,  drop 
by  drop,  from  the  bleeding  bosom  of  the  Southern  Confederacy, 
the  last  pulses  of  John  M.  Daniel  kept  time  to  the  pattering 
drops. 

One  morning,  at  the  end  of  March,  his  physician  came  to  see 
him,  and  found  him  lying  on  the  outer  edge  of  his  bed.  Not 
wishing  to  disturb  him,  the  physician  went  to  the  window  to 
mix  a  stimulant.  All  at  once  a  noise  attracted  his  attention,  and 
he  turned  round.  The  dying  man  had,  by  a  great  effort,  turned 
completely  over,  and  lay  on  his  back  in  the  middle  of  the  bed, 
with  his  eyes  closed,  and  his  arms  folded  ou  his  breast,  as 
though  he  were  praying. 

"When  the  physician  came  to  his  bedside,  he  was  dead. 

It  was  four  days  before  the  fall  of  Petersburg  and  Richmond ; 
and  he  was  buried  in  Hollywood,  just  in  time  to  escape  the  tramp 
of  Federal  feet  around  his  coffin. 

His  prophecy  and  wish  were  thas  fulfilled.* 

*  These  details  are  strictly  accurate. 


GARROTED.  415 

IV. 

GARROTED. 

When  I  left  Mr.  Jolin  M.  Daniel  it  was  past  ten  at  night, 
and  designing  to  set  out  early  in  the  morning  for  Petersburg, 
I  bent  ray  steps  toward  home. 

The  night  was  not  however  to  pass  without  adventures  of  another 
character. 

I  was  going  along  Governor  Street,  picking  my  way  by  the 
light  of  the  few  gas-lamps  set  far  apart  and  burning  dimly,  when 
all  at  once  I  heard  a  cry  in  front,  succeeded  by  the  noise  of  a 
scufHe,  and  then  by  a  heavy  fall. 

Hastening  forward  I  reached  the  spot,  which  was  not  far  from 
the  City  Hall ;  and  a  glance  told  me  all. 

A  wayfarer  had  been  garroted  ;  that  is  to  say,  suddenly 
attacked  while  passing  along,  by  one  of  the  night-birds  who  then 
infested  the  streets  after  dark  ;  seized  from  behind ;  throttled, 
and  thrown  violently  to  the  ground — the  object  of  the  assailant 
being  robbery. 

When  I  reached  the  spot  the  robber  was  still  struirdin^  with 
his  victim,  who,  stretched  beneath  him  on  the  ground,  uttered 
frightful  cries.  One  hand  of  the  garroter  was  on  his  throat,  the 
other  was  busily  rifling  his  pockets. 

I  came  up  just  in  time  to  prevent  a  murder,  but  not  to  disap- 
point the  robber.  As  I  appeared  he  hastily  rose,  releasing  the 
throat  of  the  unfortunate  citizen.  I  saw  a  watch  gleam  in  his 
hand ;  he  bestowed  a  violent  kick  on  his  prostrate  victim  ; — then 
he  disappeared  running,  and  was  in  an  instant  lost  in  the 
darkness. 

I  saw  that  pursuit  would  be  useless ;  and  nobody  ever  thought, 
at  that  period,  of  attempting  to  summon  the  police.  I  turned  to 
assist  the  victim,  who  all  at  once  rose  from  the  ground,  uttering 
groans  and  cries. 

The  lamp-light  shone  upon  his  face.     It  was  the  worthy  Mr. 
Blocque — Mr.  Blocque,  emitting  howls  of  anguish  !     Mr.  Blocque, 
shaking  his  clenched  hands,  and    maligning  all  created  things  ! 
18 


416  MOHUl^. 

Mr.  Blocqne,  devoting,  with  lond  cnrses  and  imprecations,  the 
assembled  wisdom  of  the  '' city  fathers,"  and  the  entire  police 
force  of  the  Confederate  capital,  to  the  infernal  deities ! 

."  I  am  robbed — murdered  !"  screamed  the  little  Jewish-looking 
personage,  in  a  shrill  falsetto  which  resembled  the  shriek  of  a 
furious  old  woman,  "robbed!  rifled  I — stripped  of  every  thing! — 
garroted! — my  money  taken! — I  had  ten  thousand  dollars  in 
gold  and  greenbacks  on  my  person ! — not  a  Confederate  note  in 
the  whole  pack — not  one  !  gold  and  greenbacks ! — two  watches  ! 
— I  am  ruined!  I  will  expose  the  police!  I  was  going  to  ray 
house  like  a  quiet  citizen !  I  was  harming  nobody!  and  I  am  to 
be  set  on  and  robbed  of  my  honest  earnings  by  a  highwayman — 
choked,  strangled,  knocked  down,  my  pockets  picked,  my  money 
taken — and  this  in  the  capital  of  the  Confederacy,  under  the  nose 
of  the  police !" 

It  was  a  shrill  squeak  which  I  heard — som.etliing  unutterably 
ludicrous.  I  could  scarce  forbear  laughing,  as  I  looked  at  the 
little  blockade-runner,  with  disordered  hair,  dirty  face,\  torn 
clothes,  and  bleeding  nose,  uttering  curses,  and  moaning  in  agony 
over  the  loss  of  his  "  honest  earnings  !" 

I  consoled  him  in  the  best  manner  I  could,  and  asked  him 
if  he  had  lost  every  thing.  That  question  seemed  to  arouse 
liim.  He  felt  hastily  in  his  pockets, — and  then  at  the  result  my 
eyes  opened  wide.  Thrusting  his  hand  into  a  secret  pocket,  he 
drew  forth  an  enormous  roU  of  greenbacks,  and  I  could  see  the 
figures  "  100"  on  each  of  the  notes  as  he  ran  over  them.  That 
bundle  alone  must  have  contained  several  thousands  of  dollars. 
But  the  worthy  Mr.  Blocque  did  not  seem  in  the  least  consoled. 

"He  got  the  other  tundleV  shrieked  the  victim,  still  in  his  wild 
falsetto  ;  "  it  was  ten  thousand  dollars — I  had  just  received  it 
this  evening — I  am  robbed! — they  are  going  to  murder  me! — 
"Where  is  the  police  ! — murder  I" 

I  laid  my  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"Yon  have  lost  a  very  considerable  sum,"  I  said,  "but — you 
may  lose  more  still." 

And  I  pointed  to  the  roll  of  bank  notes  in  his  hand,  with  a  sig- 
Eificant  glance.     At  these  words  he  started. 

"  You  are  right,  colonel !"  he  said,  hastily;  "  I  may  be  attacked 


THE    CLOAKED    WOMAX.  417 

aj^ain !  I  may  be  robbed  of  all — they  may  finish  me !  I  will  get 
home  as  quickly  as  I  can  !  Thank  yon,  colonel !  you  have  saved 
me  from  robbery  and  murder !  Oome  and  see  me,  colonel.  Come 
and  dine  with  me,  my  dear  sir !    At  five,  precisely  !" 

And  Mr.  Blocque  commenced  running  wildly  toward  a  place 
of  safety. 

In  a  moment  he  had  disappeared,  and  I  found  myself  alone — 
laughing  heartily. 


Y. 

THE  CLOAKED  AVOM:Ay. 

*'  Well,"  I  said,  as  I  walked  on,  "  this  is  a  charming  adventure 
and  conveys  a  tolerably  good  idea  of  the  city  of  Richmond,  after 
dark,  in-  the  year  1864.  Our  friend  Blocque  is  garroted,  and 
robbed  of  his  'honest  earnings,'  at  one  fell  swoop  by  a  footpad  ! 
The  worthy  citizen  is  waylaid  ;  his  pockets  rifled  ;  his  life  deso- 
lated. All  the  proceeds  of  a  life  of  virtuous  industry  have  dis- 
appeared. Terrible  condition  of  things  I — awful  times  when  a 
good  citizen  can  not  go  home  to  his  modest  supper  of  canvas- 
backs  and  champagne,  without  being  robbed  by his  brother 

robber!" 

Indulging  in  these  reflections,  not  unaccompanied  with  smiles, 
I  continued  ray  way,  with  little  fear,  myself,  of  pickpockets  or 
garroters.  Those  gentry  were  intelligent.  They  were  never 
known  to  attack  people  with  gray  coats — they  knew  better !  They 
attacked  the  black  coats,  in  the  pockets  of  which  they  suspected 
the  presence  of  greenbacks  and  valuable  papers  ;  never  the  gray 
coats,  where  they  would  find  only  a  frayed  "leave  of  absence" 
for  their  pains  ! 

I  thus  banished  the  whole  afifair  from  my  mind ;  but  it  had 
aroused  and  excited  me.  I  did  not  feel  at  all  sleepy ;  and  finding, 
by  a  glance  at  my  watch  beneath  a  lamp,  that  it  Avas  only  half 
past  ten,  I  resolved  to  go  and  ask  after  the  health  of  my  friend,  Air. 
X ,  whose  house  was  only  a  square  or  two  off. 


418  MO  HUN".    * 

Tliis  resolution  I  proceeded  at  once  to  carry  ont,  A  short  walk 
Lrouglit  me  to  the  house,  half  buried  in  its  shrubbery ;  but  as  I 
approached  I  saw  a  carriage  was  standing  before  the  liouse. 

Sliould  I  make  my  visit  then,  or  postpone  it  ?  Mr.  X evi- 
dently had  company.     Or  had   the  carriage  brought  a  visitor  to 

some  other  member   of  the  household?     Mr.  X was  only  a 

boarder,  and  I  might  be  mistaken  in  supposing  that  he  was  engaged 
at  tlie  moment. 

As  these  thoughts  passed  through  my  mind,  I  approached  the 
gate  in  the  iron  railing.  The  carriage  was  half  hidden  by  the 
shadow  of  the  elms,  which  grew  in  a  row  along  the  sidewalk. 
On  the  box  sat  a  motionless  figure.  The  vehicle  and  driver  were 
as  still  and  silent  as  if  carved  out  of  ebony. 

"Decidedly  I  will  discover,"  I  said,  and  opening  the  gate  I 
turned  into  the  winding  path  through  the  shrubbery,  which  led 
toward  the  rear  of  the  house;  that  is  to  say,  toward  the  private 
entrance  to  the  room  of  Mr.  X . 

Suddenly,  as  1  passed  through  the  ehadowy  shrubs,  I  felt  a 
hand  on  mv  shoulder.  I  started  back,  and  unconsciouslv  felt  for 
some  weapon. 

"Don't  shoot  me,  colonel!"  said  a  voice  in  the  darkness,  "I 
am  a  friend." 

I  recognized  the  voice  of  Xighthawk. 

"Good  heavens!  my  dear  Xighthawk,"  I  said,  drawing  a  long 
breath  of  relief,  "  you  are  enough  to  make  Alonzo  the  Brave,  him- 
self, tremble  ?  You  turn  up  everywhere,  and  especially  in  the 
dark  !     What  are  you  doing  here  ?" 

"I  am  watching,  colonel,"  said  Nighthawk,  with  benignant 
sweetness. 

"Watching?" 

"And  waiting." 

"  "Waiting  for  whom  ?" 

"For  a  lady  with  whom  yon  have  the  honor  of  being  ac- 
quainted." 

"  A  lady ?" 

"  That  one  you  last  saw  in  the  lonelv  house  near  Monk's  Neck. 
Hush!  here  she  comes,"  * 

His  voice  had  sunk  to  a  whisper,  and  he  drew  me  into  the 


THE    HEART    OF    A    ST  ATESInIA:^.        419 

shrubbery,  as  a  long  bar  of  liglit,  issuing  from  the  door  in  the  rear 
of  the  house,  ran  out  into  the  night. 

*'  I  am  going  to  follow  her,"  whispered  Xiglithawk,  ])lacing  his 
lips  close  to  my  ear,  "  she  is  at  her  devil's  work  here  in  Rich- 
mond, as  Swartz  was ." 

Suddenly  he  was  silent;  a  light  step  was  heard.  A  form  ap- 
'  proached  us,  passed  by.  I  could  see  that  it  was  a  woman, 
wrapped  from  head  to  foot  in  a  gray  cloak. 

She  passed  so  close  to  us  that  the  skirt  of  her  cloak  nearly 
brushed  our  persons,  and  disappeared  toward  the  gate.  The 
iron  latch  was  heard  to  click,  the  door  of  the  carriage  to  open 
and  close,  and  then  the  vehicle  began  to  move. 

Nighthawk  took  two  quick  steps  in  the  direction  of  the  gate. 

"I  am  going  to  follow  the  carriage,  colonel,"  he  whispered. 
"I  have  been  waiting  here  to  do  so.  I  will  tell  vou  more  another 
time.  Give  my  respects  to  General  Mohun,  and  tell  him  I  am  on 
his  business!" 

With  which  words  JTighthawk  glided  into  the  darkness- 
passed  through  the  gate  without  sound  from  the  latch — and  run- 
ning noiselessly,  disappeared  on  the  track  of  the  carriage. 

I  gazed  after  him  for  a  moment,  said  to  myself,  "  well  this 
night  is  to  be  full  of  incident!" — and  going  straight  to  the  door 
in  the  rear  of  the  house,  passed  through  it,  went  to  the  door  of 
Mr.  X 's  room,  and  knocked. 

"  Come  in,"  said  the  voice  of  that  gentleman ;  and  opening  the 
door  I  entered. 


THE    HEART    OF    A   STATES:\IA:^. 

Mr.  X was  seated  in  front  of  an  excellent  coal  fire,  in  his 

great  arm-chair,  near  a  table  covered  with  papers,  and  between 
his  lips  was  the  eternal  cigar. 

At  sight  of  me  he  rose  courteously — for  he  never  omitted 
any  form  of  politeness — and  cordially  shook  my  hand. 


420  MOHUN. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  yon,  colonel,"  he  said.  "Just  from  the 
army  ?     Have  a  cigar." 

And  he  extended  toward  me  an  elegant  cigar-case  full  of 
Ilavanas,  which  he  took  from  the  table.  I  declined,  informing  him 
that  I  had  been  smoking  all  the  evening  in  the  sanctum  of  the 
editor  of  the  Examiner. 

"  Ah  !  you  have  been  to  see  Daniel,"  said  Mr.  X ■.    "  lie  is 

a  very  remarkable  man.  I  do  not  approve  of  the  course  of  his 
paper,  and  he  has  attacked  me  very  bitterly  on  more  than  one 
occasion.  But  I  bear  no  grudge  against  him.  He  is  honest  in 
his  opinions.  I  admire  the  pluck  of  the  man,  and  the  splendid 
pith  of  his  writings. 

"My  views  accord  with  your  own,"  I  replied. 

"Everybody  thinks  with    us,"  said  Mr.  X, puffing  at  his 

ciL^ar.  "  It  is  only  ignoramuses  who  deny  this  man's  courage  and 
abilitv.  I  have  never  done  injustice  to  Daniel — and  I  call  tliat 
'  liberaP  in  mvself,  colonel !  He  has  flaved  me  alive  on  three  or 
four  occasions,  and  it  is  not  his  fault  that  I  am  enjoying  this 
excellent  Havana." 

"  I  read  the  attacks,"  I  said, 

"Were  they  not  fearful?"  said  Mr.  X ,  smiling  tranquilly. 

"  After  reading  them,  I  regarded  myself  as  a  moral  and  political 
monster!" 

I  could  not  forbear  from  laughing  as  the  portly  statesman  ut- 
tered the  words.  He  seemed  to  derive  a  species  of  careless  en- 
joyment from  the  recollection  of  his  "flayings." 

"  I  expect  to  talk  over  these  little  affairs  with  Daniel  here- 
after," he  said.  "  We  shaU  have  a  great  deal  of  time  on  our 
hands — in  Canada." 

And  Mr.  X smiled  ,and  went  on  smoking.  It  was  the  second 

time  he  had  uttered  that  phrase — "  in  Canada." 

I  laughed  now,  and  said  : — 

"  You  continue  to  regard  Toronto,  or  Montreal,  or  Quebec,  as 
your  future  residence  ?" 

"  Yes ;  I  think  I  prefer  Quebec.  The  view  from  Cape  Diamond 
is  superb  ;  and  there  is  something  English  and  un-American  in 
the  whole  place,  which  I  like.     The  Plains  of  Abraham  bring  back 


THE    HEART    OF    A    STATESMA]^.        421 

the  history  of  tlie  past,— whicli  is  more  agreeable  to  me  at  least 

than  the  Ijistory  of  the  present." 

"  You  adhere  more  than  ever,  I  see,  to  your  opinion  tlvat  we 

are  going  to  fail  ?" 

"  It  is  not  an  opinion,  ray  dear  colonel,  but  a  certainty." 

My  head  sank.     In  the  army  I  had  been  hopeful.     Wlien  I 

came  to  Richmond,    those   high   intelligences,    Jolm  M.    Daniel 

and  Mr.    X ,  did  not  even  attempt  to  conceal  their  gloouir 

views. 

"  I  see   you  think  me  a   croaker,"  said  Mr.   X ,  tranquilly 

smoking,  "  and  doubtless  say  to  yourself,  colonel,  that  I  am  in- 
judicious in  thus  discouraging  a  soldier,  who  is  fighting  for  this 
cause.  A  year  ago  I  would  not  have  spoken  to  you  thus,  for  a 
year  ago  there  was  still  some  hope.  Xow,  to  discourage  you — 
if  thinking  men,  fighting  for  a  principle,  like  yourself,  could  be 
discouraged — would  result  in  no  injury:  for  the  cause  is  lost. 
On  the  contrary,  as  the  friend  of  that  most  excellent  gentleman, 
your  father,  I  regard  it  as  a  sort  of  duty  to  speak  thus— to  say  to 
you  '  Don't  throw  away  your  life  for  nothing.  Do  your  duty,  but 
do  no  more  than  your  duty,  for  we  are  doomed.'  " 

I  could  find  no  reply  to  these  gloomy  words. 

'•The  case  is  past  praying  for,"  said  Mr.    X composedly, 

"the  whole  fabric  of  the  Confederacy  at  this  moment  is  a  mere 
shell.  It  is  going  to  crumble  in  the  spring,  and  another  flag  will 
float  over  the  Virginia  capitol  yonder — what  you  soldiers  call 
'  The  Gridiron.'  The  country  is  tired.  The  administration  is  un- 
popular, and  the  departments  are  mismanaged.  I  am  candid,  you 
see.  The  days  of  the  Confederacy  are  numbered,  and  worse  than 
all,  nobody  knows  it.  We  oaght  to  negotiate  for  the  best  terms, 
but  the  man  who  advises  that,  will  be  hissed  at  and  called  a 
'  coward.'  It  is  an  invidious  thing  to  do.  It  is  much  grander  to 
shout  'Death  sooner  than  surrender!'  I  shouted  that  lustily  as 
long  as  there  was  any  hope — now,  I  think  it  my  duty  as  a  states- 
man, and  public  functionary,  to  say,  '  There  are  worse  things  than 
death— let  us  try  and  avoid  them  by  making  terms.'  I  say  that 
to  you — I  do  not  say  so  on  the  streets — the  people  would  tear  me 
to  pieces,  and  with  their  sources  of  information  they  would  be 
right  in  doing  so." 


422  M  O  H  U  N . 

"  Is  it  possible  that  all  is  lost  ?  Tliat  negotiations  are  our  only 
hope?" 

"Yes;  and  confidentially  speaking — this  is  a  State  secret,  my 
dear  colonel — these  will  soon  be  made." 

"Indeed!" 

"You  think  that  impossible,  but  it  is  the  impossible  which  in- 
variably takes  place  in  this  world.  We  are  going  to  send  com- 
missioners to  meet  Mr.  Lincoln  in  Hampton  Roads — and  it  will  be 
"useless." 

"  Why  ?" 

"  We  are  going  to  demand  such  terms  as  he  will  not  agree  to. 
The  commissioners  will  return.  The  war  will  continue  to  its  le- 
gitimate military  end,  which  I  fix  about  the  last  days  of  March." 

"  Good  heaven !  so  soon  !" 

"  Yes." 

"  In  three  months  ?" 

Mr,  X nodded. 

"  General  Lee  may  lengthen  the  terra  a  little  by  his  skill  and 
courage,  but  it  is  not  in  his  power,  even,  to  resist  beyond  tiie 
month  of  April." 

"The  army  of  Northern  Virginia,  driven  by  the  enemy!" 

"Forced  to  surrender,  or  annihilated;  and  in  Virginia — it  will 
never  join  Johnston.  Its  numbers  are  too  small  to  cut  a  path 
tlirough  the  enemy.  Grant  will  be  at  the  Southside  road  before 
the  first  of  April ;  Lee  will  evacuate  his  lines,  whicli  he  will  be 
compelled  to  hold  to  the  last  moment ;  he  will  retreat ;  be  inter- 
cepted ;  be  hunted  down  toward  Lynchburg,  and  either  surrender, 
or  be  butchered.     Cheerful,  isn't  it?" 

"It  is  frightful!" 

"  Yes,  Lee's  men  are  starving  now.  The  country  is  tired  of  the 
war,  and  disgusted  with  the  manner  in  which  we  manage  things. 
No  recruits  are  arriving.  The  troops  are  not  deserting^  but  they 
are  leaving  the  army  without  permission,  to  succor  their  starv- 
ing families.  Lee's  last  hours  are  approaching,  and  we  are 
playing  the  comedy  here  in  Richmond  with  an  immense  appear- 
ance of  reality ;  dancing,  and  fiddling,  and  laughing  on,  the  surface 
of  the  volcano.  I  play  my  part  among  the  rest.  I  risk  my  head 
more  even,  perhaps,  than  the  military  leaders.     I  take  a  philo- 


THE    HEART    OF    A    STATESMAN.        423 

sophic  view,  however,  of  the  present  and  future.    If  I  am  not  hung, 
I  will  go  to  Canada;  meanwhile,  I  smoke  my  cigar,  colonel." 

And  Mr.  X lazily  threw  away  his  stump,  and  lit  a  fresh  Ha- 
vana. It  is  impossible  to  imagine  any  thing  more  careless  than  his 
attitude.     This  man  was  either  very  brave  or  frightfully  apathetic. 

Five  minutes  afterward,  I  knew  that  any  thing  but  apathy  pos- 
sessed him.  All  at  once  he  rose  in  his  chair,  and  his  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  me  with  a  glance  so  piercing  and  melancholy,  that 
they  dwell  still  in  my  memory,  and  will  always  dwell  there. 

"I  said  we  were  playing  a  comedy  here  in  Richmond,  col- 
onel," he  said,  in  tones  so  deep  and  solemn  that  they  made  me 
start;  "I  am  playing  my  part  with  the  rest;  I  play  it  in  public, 
and  even  in  private,  as  before  you  to-night.  I  sit  here,  indolently 
smoking  and  uttering  my  jests  and  platitudes,  and,  at  the  moment 
that  I  am  speaking,  my  heart  is  breaking!  I  am  a  Virginian — I 
love  this  soil  more  than  all  the  rest  of  the  world — not  a  foot  but 
is  dear  and  sacred,  and  a  vulgar  horde  are  about  to  trample  it 
under  foot,  and  enslave  its  people.  Every  pulse  of  my  being 
throbs  with  agony  at  the  thought!  I  cannot  sleep.  I  have  lost 
all  taste  for  food.  One  thought  alone  haunts  me — that  the  land 
of  Washington,  Jefferson,  Mason,  Henry,  and  Randolph,  is  to  be- 
come the  helpless  prey  of  the  scum  of  Europe  and  the  Xorth ! 
My  family  has  lived  here  for  more  than  two  hundred  years.  I 
have  been,  and  am  to-day,  proud  beyond  words,  of  my  birthright ! 
I  am  a  Virginian !  a  Virginian  of  Virginians!  I  have  for  forty 
years  had  no  thought  but  the  honor  of  Virginia.  I  have  fought 
for  her,  and  her  only,  in  the  senate  and  cabinet  of  the  old  gov- 
ernment at  Washington.  I  have  dedicated  all  my  powers  to  her — 
shrunk  from  nothing  in  my  path — given  my  days  and  nights  for 
years,  and  was  willing  to  pour  out  my  blood  for  Virginia;  and 
now  she  is  about  to  be  trampled  upon,  her  great  statues  hurled 
down,  her  escutcheon  blotted,  her  altars  overturned!  And  I, 
who  have  had  no  thought  but  her  honor  and  glory,  am  to  be 
driven,  at  the  end  of  a  long  career,  to  a  foreign  laud  !  I  am  to 
crouch  yonder  in  Canada,  with  my  bursting  brow  in  my  two 
hands — and  every  newspaper  is  to  tell  me  'ihe  negro  and  the 
bayonet  rule  Virginia  1'  Can  you  wonder,  then,  that  I  am  gloomy 
— that  despair  lies  under  all  this  jesting?  You  are  happy.  You  go 
18* 


424:  MOHUiS'. 

yonder,  where  a  bullet  may  end  you.  Would  to  God  that  I  had 
entered  the  army,  old  as  I  am,  and  that  at  least  I  could  hope  for 
a  death  of  honor,  in  arms  for  Virginia!" 


YII. 

SECRET    SERVICE. 


The  statesman  leaned  back  in  his  great  chair,  and  was  silent. 
At  the  same  moment  a  tap  was  heard  at  the  door ;  it  opened 
noiselessly,  and  IS'ighthawk  glided  into  the  apartment. 

Under  his  cloak  I  saw  the  gray  uniform  of  a  Confederate  sol- 
dier ;  in  his  hand  he  carried  a  letter. 

Nighthawk  saluted  Mr.  X and  myself  with  benignant  re- 
spect. His  quick  eye,  however,  had  caught  the  gloomy  and 
agitated  expression  of  the  statesman's  countenance,  and  he  was 
silent. 

"TVell,"  said  Mr.  X ,  raising  his  head,  with  a  deep  sigh. 

Then  passing  his  hand  over  his  face,  he  seemed  to  brush  away  all 
emotion.  When  he  again  looked  up,  his  face  was  as  calm  and 
unmoved  as  at  the  commencement  of  our  interview. 

"  You  see  I  begin  a  new  scene  in  this  comedy,"  he  said  to  me 
in  a  low  tone. 

And  turning  to  Nighthawk,  he  said: — 

"  Well,  you  followed  that  agreeable  person  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Nighthawk,  with  great  respect. 

''  She  turned  out  to  be  the  character  you  supposed  ?  Speak 
before  Colonel  Surry." 

Xighthawk  bowed. 

"  I  never  had  any  doubt  of  her  character,  sir,"  he  said.  "  You 
will  remember  that  she  called  on  you  a  week  ago,  announcing 
that  she  was  a  spy,  who  bad  lately  visited  the  Federal  lijics  and 
ys  ashington.  You  described  her  to  me,  and  informed  me  that 
you  had  given  her  another  appointment  for  to  night;  when   I 


SECRET    SERVICE.  425 

assured  you  that  I  knew  her ;  she  was  an  enemy,  who  had  come 
as  a  spy  upon  us  ;  and  you  directed  me  to  be  here  to-night,  and 
follow  her,  after  your  interview." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  X ,  quietly,  "you  followed  her?" 

"Yes,  sir.  On  leaving  you,  after  making  her  pretended  report 
of  affairs  in  Washington,  she  got  into  her  carriage,  and  the  driver 
started  rapidly,  going  up  Capitol  and  Grace  streets.  I  followed 
on  foot,  and  had  to  ran  —but  I  am  used  to  that,  sir.  The  carriage 
stopped  at  a  house  in  the  upper  part  of  the  city — a  Mr.  Blocque's  ; 
the  lady  got  out,  telling  the  driver  to  wait,  and  went  into  the 
house,  where  she  staid  for  about  half  an  hour.  She  then  came 
out — I  was  in  the  shadow  of  a  tree,  not  ten  yards  from  the  spot, 
and  as  she  got  into  the  carriage,  I  could  see  that  she  held  in  her 
hand  a  letter.  As  the  driver  closed  the  door,  she  said,  '  Take  me 
to  the  flag-of-truce  bureau,  on  Mnth  Street,  next  door  to  the 
war  office.'  The  driver  mounted  his  box,  and  set  off — and 
crossing  the  street,  I  commenced  running  to  get  a-head.  In  this 
I  succeeded,  and  reached  the  bureau  five  minutes  before  the  car- 
riage. 

"  Well,  sir,  I  hastened  up  stairs,  and  went  into  the  bureau, 
where  three  or  four  clerks  were  examining  the  letters  left  to  be 
sent  by  the  flag-of-truce  boat  to-morrow.  They  were  laughing 
and  jesting  as  they  read  aloud  the  odd  letters  from  the  Llbby 
and  other  prisons — some  of  which,  I  assure  you,  were  very 
amusing,  sir — when  the  lady's  footsteps  were  heard  upon  the 
stairs,  and  she  came  in,  smiling. 

"  I  had  turned  ray  back,  having  given  some  excuse  for  my  pres- 
ence to  one  of  the  clerks,  who  is  an  acquaintance.  Thus  the  lady, 
who  knows  me,  could  not  see  my  face ;  but  I  could,  by  looking 
out  of  the  corners  of  my  eyes,  see  her.  She  came  in,  in  her  rich 
gray  cloak,  smiling  on  the  clerks,  and  handing  an  open  letter  to 
one  of  them,  said : — 

" '  Will  you  oblige  me  by  sending  that  to  my  sister  in  Xew 
York,  by  the  flag-of-truce  boat,  to-morrow,  sir?' 

"  'If  there  is  nothing  contraband  in  it,  madam,'  said  the  clerk, 

"  'Oh I'  she  replied,  with  a  laugh,  'it  is  only  on  family  matters. 
My  sister  is  a  Southerner,  and  so  am  I,  sir.  You  can  read  the 
letter;  it  is  not  very  dangerous  !' 


426  MOHUN. 

"  And  she  smiled  so  sweetly  that  the  clerk  was  almost  ashamed 
to  read  the  letter.  He,  however,  glanced  his  eye  over  it,  and  evi- 
dently fonnd  nothing  wrong  in  it.  While  he  was  doing  so,  the 
lady  walked  toward  the  mail-bags  in  which  the  clerks  had  been 
placing  snch  letters  as  they  found  unobjectionable,  the  others  be- 
ing marked,  'Condemned,'  and  thrown  into  a  basket.  As  she 
passed  near  one  of  the  bags,  I  saw  the  lady,  -whom  I  was  closely 
•watching,  flirt  her  cloak,  as  though  by  accident,  across  the  mouth 
of  one  of  the  mail-bags,  and  at  the  same  instant  her  hand  stole  down 
and  dropped  a  letter  into  the  bag.  As  she  did  so,  the  clerk,  who 
had  finished  reading  the  other  letter^  bowed,  and  said  : — 

"  '  There  is  nothing  objectionable  in  this,  madam,  and  it  will  be 
sent,  of  course.' 

"  '  I  was  sure  of  that,  sir,'  replied  the  lady,  with  a  smile.  '  I  am 
very  much  obliged.     Good  evening,  sir!' 

"And  she  sailed  out,  all  the  clerks  politely  rising  as  she  did  so. 

"  Xo  sooner  had  the  door  closed  than  I  darted  upon  the  bag  in 
•which  I  had  seen  her  drop  the  letter.  The  clerks  wished  to  stop 
me,  but  I  informed  them  of  Avhat  I  had  seen.  If  they  doubted, 
they  could  see  for  themselves  that  the  letter,  which  I  had  easily 
found,  was  not  sealed  with  the  seal  of  the  bureau.  They  looked 
at  it,  and  at  once  acknowledged  their  error. 

" 'Arrest  her!'  exclaimed  one  of  them,  suddenly.  The  rapid 
rolling  of  a  carriage  came  like  an  echo  to  his  words. 

"  It  is  useless,  gentlemen,'  I  said.  '  I  know  where  to  find  the 
lady,  and  will  look  to  the  whole  aflPair.  You  know  I  am  in  the 
secret  service,  and  will  be  personally  responsible  for  every  thing. 
I  will  take  this  letter  to  the  oiScial  who  directed  me  to  watch  the 
lady  who  brought  it.' 

"To  this,  no  objection  was  made,  as  I  am  known  at  the  office. 
I  came  away;  returned  as  quickly  as  possible;  and  here  is  the 
letter,  sir." 

With  which  words  !N'ighthawk  drew  his  hand  from  under  his 

cloak,  and  presented  the  letter  to  Mr.  X ,  who  had  listened  tn 

silence  to  his  narrative. 


BY    FLAG-OF-TRUCE    BOAT.  427 


VIII. 

BY   FLAG-OF-TRUCE   BOAT. 

!Mr.  X took  the  letter,  broke  the  seal,  and  ran  his  eye  over 

the  contents. 

" Decidedly,  that  woman  is  a  skilful  person,"  he  said;  "she 
fishes  in  troubled  waters  with  the  coolness  of  an  experienced 
hand." 

And  presenting  the  letter  to  me,  the  statesman  said  : — 

"  Would  you  like  to  see  a  specimen  of  the  sort  of  documents 
wliich  go  on  file  in  the  departments,  colonel  ?" 

I  took  the  letter,  and  read  the  following  words  :— 

"EiCHMOXD,  18  Bec'r,  1864. 
"  Tell,  you  Tcnow  who^  that  I  have  just  seen  the  honorable 
Mr.  "  (here  the  writer  gave  the  real  name  and  oflBcial  posi- 
tion of  Mr.  X ),  "  and  have  had  a  long  conversation  with  him. 

He  is  fully  convinced  that  I  am  a  good  Confederate,  and  spoke 
without  reserve  of  matters  the  most  private.  He  is  in  high  spir- 
its, and  looks  on  the  rebel  cause  as  certain  to  succeed.  I  never 
saw  one  more  blinded  to  the  real  state  of  things.  Eiclimond  is 
full  of  misery,  and  the  people  seem  in  despair,  but  this  high  offi- 
cial, who  represents  the  whole  government,  is  evidently  certain 
of  Lee's  success.  I  found  him  in  a  garrulous  mood,  and  he  did 
not  conceal  his  views.  The  government  has  just  received  heavy 
supplies  from  the  south,  by  tlie  Danville  railroad — others  are 
coming — the  whole  country  in  rear  of  Sherman  is  rising — and 
Lee,  he  stated,  would  soon  be  re-enforced  by  between  fifty  and  sev- 
enty-five thousand  men.  What  was  more  important  still,  was  a  dis- 
patch, which  he  read  me,  from  England.  This  startled  me.  There 
seems  no  doubt  that  England  is  about  to  recognize  the  Confeder- 
acy. When  he  had  finished  reading  tliis  dispatch,  on  the  back 
of  which  I  could  see  the  English  postmark,  he  said  to  me — these 
are  his  words : — '  You  see,  things  were  never  brighter  ;  it  is  only 
a  question  of  time ;  and  by  holding  out  a  little  longer,  we  shall 


428  MO  II  UN". 

compel  the  enemy  to  retire  and  give  up  tlie  contest.  With  the 
re-enforcements  coming,  Lee  will  liave  about  one  hundred  thou- 
sand men.  "With  that  force,  he  will  be  able  to  repulse  all  General 
Grant's  assaults.  Things  look  dark  at  this  moment,  but  the  cause 
was  never  more  hopeful.' 

"  He  seemed  insane,  but  I  give  you  his  words.  It  is  certain  that 
these  are  the  views  of  the  government,  and  that  our  authorities 
are  much  mistaken  in  supposing  the  Confederacy  at  its  last  gasp. 
It  is  impossible  that  the  honorable  Mr, was  attempting  to  de- 
ceive me;  because  I  carried  him   a  letter  from "  (here  tho 

writer  gave  the  name  of  a  prominent  official  of  the  Confederate 
Government,  which  I  suppress)  "  who  vouched  for  me,  and  de- 
clared that  I  was  passionately  Southern  in  my  sympathies. 

"  I  shall  see  the  honorable  Mr. in   a  day  or  two  again. 

In  the  mean  while,  I  am  staying,  incognita^  at  the  house  of  our 
friend,  Mr.  Blocque,  who  has  afforded  me  every  facility  in  return 
for  the  safeguard  I  brought  him,  to  protect  his  property  when  we 
occupy  Richmond.  The  city  is  in  a  terrible  state.  Mr.  Blocque 
has  just  come  in,  and  informs  me  that  he  has  been  garroted 
near  the  capitol,  and  robbed  of  ten  thousand  dollars  in  good 
money.     He  is  in  despair. 

"As  soon  as  I  have  finished  some  important  private  business, 

which  keeps  me  in  the  Confederate  lines,  I  shall  be  with  

again.  Tell  him  to  be  in  good  spirits.  This  city  has  still  a  great 
deal  of  money  hoarded  in  garrets — and  we  shall  soon  be  here. 
Then  we  can  retire  on  a  competence — and  when  Fonthill  is  con- 
fiscated, we  will  purchase  it,  and  live  in  afiluence. 

"LUCEETIA." 

I  looked  at  the  back  of  the  letter.  It  was  directed  to  a  lady  in 
Suftblk.  From  the  letter,  my  glance  passed  to  the  face  of  Mr. 
X .     He  was  smiling  grimly. 

"A  valuable  document,"  he  said,  "  which  madam  will  doubt- 
less duplicate  before  very  long,  with  additional  particulars.  I 
make  you  a  present  of  it,  colonel,  as  a  memorial  of  the  war." 

I  thanked  him,  and  placed  the  letter  in  my  pocket.  To-day  I 
copy  it,  word  for  word. 

Mr.  X reflected  a  moment;  then  he  said  to  Xighthawk : — 


BY    FLAG-OF-TRUCE    BOAT.  429 

*'  Arrest  this  woman  ;  I  am  tired  of  her.  I  have  no  time  to 
•waste  upon  such  persons,  however  charming." 

ISJ"ighthawk  looked  greatly  delighted. 

"I  was  going  to  beg  that  order  of  you,  sir,"  he  said,  "as  the 
'  private  business '  alluded  to  in  the  letter,  concerns  a  friend  of 
mine,  greatly." 

"  Ah !  well,  here  is  the  order." 

And  taking  a  pen,  Mr.  X scrawled  two  lines,  which  he 

handed  to  Xighthawk.  A  glow  of  satisfaction  came  to  that 
worthy's  face,  and  taking  the  paper,  he  carefully  placed  it  in  his 
pocket. 

As  he  did  so,  the  bell  in  the  capitol  square  struck  midnight, 
and  I  rose  to  take  ray  departure. 

"Come  and  see  me  soon  again,  colonel,"  said  Mr.  X , 

going  to  the  door  with  me.  He  had  made  a  sign  to  Xighthawk, 
who  rose  to  go  out  with  me,  that  he  wished  him  to  remain. 

"What  I  have  said  to  you,  to-night,"  continued  the  statesman, 
gravely,  "may  have  been  injudicious,  colonel.  I  am  not  certain 
of  that — but  I  am  quite  sure  that  to  have  it  repeated  at  this  time 
would  be  inconvenient.  Be  discreet,  therefore,  my  dear  friend — 
after  the  war,  tell  or  write  what  you  fancy ;  and  I  should  rather 
have  my  present  views  known  then,  than  not  known.  They  are 
those  neither  of  a  time-server,  a  fjiint  heart,  or  a  fool.  I  stand 
like  the  Roman  sentinel  at  the  gate  of  Herculanenm,  awaiting  tlie 
lava  flood  that  will  bury  rae.  I  see  it  coming — I  hear  the  roar — 
I  know  destruction  is  rushing  on  me — but  I  am  a  sentinel  on 
post;  I  stand  where  I  have  been  posted ;  it  is  God  and  my  con- 
science that  have  placed  me  on  duty  here.  I  will  stay,  whatever 
comes,  until  I  am  relieved  by  the  same  authority  which  posted 
me." 

And  with  the  bow  of  a  nobleman,  the  gray-haired  statesman 
bade  me  farewell. 

I  returned  to  my  lodgings, -buried  in  thought,  pondering  deeply 
on  the  strange  scenes  of  this  night  of  December. 

On  the  next  morning  I  set  out,  and  rejoined  the  army  at 
Petersburg. 

I,  too,  was  a  sentinel  on  post,  like  the  statesman.  And  I  de- 
termined tq  remain  on  duty  to  the  last. 


430  MOnUN. 


IX. 


TO  AXD  FRO  IX  THE  SPRING  OF   '65. 

The  months  of  January  and  February,  18G5,  dragged  on,  sombre 
and  dreary. 

Two  or  three  expeditions  \vhich  I  made  during  that  woeful  pe- 
riod, gave  me  a  good  idea  of  the  condition  of  the  country. 

In  September,  1864,  I  had  traversed  Virginia  from  Petersburg 
to  Winchester,  and  had  found  the  people — especially  those  of  the 
lower  Shenandoah  Valley — still  hopeful,  brave,  resolved  to  resist 
to  the  death. 

In  January  and  February,  1865,  my  official  duties  carried  me  to 
the  region  around  Staunton  ;  to  the  mountains  west  of  Lynchburg ; 
and  to  the  Xorth  Carolina  border,  south  of  Petersburg.  All  had 
changed.  Everywhere  I  found  the  people  looking  blank,  hopeless, 
and  utterly  discouraged.  The  shadow  of  the  approaching  woe 
seemed  to  have  already  fallen  upon  them. 

The  army  was  as  "  game  "  as  ever — even  Early's  little  hand- 
ful, soon  to  be  struck  and  dispersed  by  General  Sheridan's  ten 
thousand  cavalry.  Ever^^where,  the  soldiers  laughed  in  the  face 
of  death.  Each  seemed  to  feel,  as  did  the  old  statesman  with 
whom  I  had  conversed  on  that  night  at  Richmond,  that  he  was  a 
sentinel  on  post,  and  must  stand  there  to  the  last.  The  lava 
might  engulf  him,  but  he  was  "posted,'*  and  must  stand  until 
relieved,  by  his  commanding  officer  or  death.  It  was  the  "poor 
private,"  in  his  ragged  jacket  and  old  shoes,  as  well  as  the  officer 
in  his  braided  coat,  who  felt  thus.  For  those  private  soldiers  of 
the  army  of  Northern  Virginia  were  gentlemen.  Koblesse  oblige 
was  their  motto  ;  and  they  meant  to  die,  musket  in  hand  ! 

Oh,  soldiers  of  the  armv,  who  carried  those  muskets  in  a  hun- 
dred  battles! — who  fought  with  them  from  Manassas,  in  1861,  to 
Appomattox,  in  1865 — you  are  the  real  heroes  of  the  mighty 
struggle,  and  one  comrade  salutes  you  now,  as  he  looked  at  you 
with  admiration  in  old  days  I 


TO    AND    FRO.  431 

"What  I  saw  in  those  jonrnevs  was  dreary  enough  ;  hut  however 
black  maj  he  the  war-cloud,  there  is  always  the  gleam  of  sunlight 
somewhere  !  "We  laughed  now  and  then,  reader,  even  in  the 
winter  of  1864-'o! 

I  laugh  still,  as  I  think  of  the  brave  cannoneers  of  the  horse 
artillery  near  Staunton — and  of  the  feailess  Breathed,  their  com- 
mander, jesting  and  playing  with  his  young  bull-dog,  whom  he 
had  called  "  Stuart "  for  his  courage.  I  hear  the  good  old  songs, 
all  about  "  Ashby,"  and  the  "Palmetto  Tree,"  and  the  "Bonnie 
Blue  Flag  " — songs  sung  with  joyous  voices  in  that  dreary  winter, 
as  in  other  days,  when  the  star  of  hope  shone  more  brightly,  and 
the  future  was  more  promising. 

At  Lynchburg,  where  I  encountered  a  number  of  old  friends, 
songs  still  sweeter  saluted  me — from  the  lips  of  my  dear  compan- 
ions. Major  Gray  and  Captain  Woodie.  How  we  laughed  and  sang, 
on  that  winter  night,  at  Lynchburg !  Do  you  chant  your  sweet 
"  Nora  McShane  "  still.  Gray  ?  And  you,  Woodie,  do  you  sing  in 
your  beautiful  and  touching  tenor  to-day, — 

"The  heart  bowed  down  by  deep  despair, 
To  weakest  hopes  will  cling  ?" 

Across  the  years  comes  once  more  that  magical  strain  ;  again  I 
hear  your  voice,  filled  with  the  very  soul  of  sadness,  tell  how 

"Memory  is  the  only  friend 
That  grief  can  call  its  own !" 

That  seemed  strangely  applicable  to  the  situation  at  the  time. 
The  memory  of  our  great  victories  was  all  that  was  left  to  us; 
and  I  thought  that  it  was  the  spirit  of  grief  itself  tliat  was  singing. 
Again  I  hear  the  notes — but  "Nora  McShane"  breaks  in — "Nora 
McShane,"  the  most  exquisite  of  all  Gray's  songs.  Then  he  winds 
up  with  uproarious  praise  of  the  "Bully  Lager  Beer!" — and  the 
long  hours  of  night  flit  away  on  the  wings  of  laughter,  as  birds 
dart  onward,  and  are  buried  in  the  night. 

Are  you  there  still.  Gray?  Do  you  sing  still,  Woodie?  Health 
and  happiness,  comrades!  All  friendly  stars  smile  on  you! 
Across  the  years  and  the  long  leagues  that  divide  us,  I  salute 
you! 


432  M  0  H  U  X . 

Thus,  at  Staunton  and  Lynchburg-,  reader,  gay  scenes  broke  the 
monotony.  In  my  journey  toward  Xorth  Carolina,  I  found  food 
also,  for  laughter. 

I  had  gone  to  Ilicksford,  fifty  miles  south  of  Petersburg,  to  in- 
spect the  cavalry;  and  in  riding  on,  I  looked  with  curiosity  on 
the  desolation  which  the  enemy  had  wrought  along  the  Weldon 
railroad,  when  they  had  destroyed  it  in  the  month  of  December. 
Stations,  private  houses,  barns,  stables,  all  were  black  and  charred 
ruins.  The  railroad  was  a  spectacle.  The  enemy  had  formed  line 
of  battle  close  along  the  track ;  then,  at  the  signal,  this  line  of  battle 
had  attacked  the  road.  The  iron  rails  were  torn  from  the  sleepers ; 
the  latter  were  then  piled  up  and  fired  ;  the  rails  were  placed 
upon  the  blazing  mass,  and  left  there  until  they  became  red-hot  in 
the  middle,  and  both  ends  bent  down — then  they  had  been  seized, 
broken,  twisted;  in  a  wild  spirit  of  sport  the  men  had  borne  some 
of  the  heated  rails  to  trees  near  the  road;  twisted  them  three  or 
four  times  around  the  trunks ;  and  there,  as  I  jassed,  were  the 
unfortunate  trees  with  their  iron  boa-constrictors  around  them — 
monuments  of  the  playful  humor  of  the  blue  people,  mouths 
before. 

Hill  and  Hampton  had  attacked  and  driven  them  back ;  from 
the  dead  horses,  as  elsewhere,  rose  the  black  vultures  on  flapping 
wings:  but  it  is  no  part  of  my  purpose,  reader,  to  weary  you 
Avith  these  war-pictures,  or  describe  disagreeable  scenes.  It  is  an 
odd  interview  which  I  had  on  my  return  toward  Petersburg  that 
ray  memory  recalls.  It  has  naught  to  do  with  my  narrative — but 
then  it  will  not  fill  more  than  a  page  ! 

I  had  encountered  two  wagons,  and,  riding,  ahead  of  them,  saw 
a  courier  of  army  head-quarters,  whose  name  was  Ashe, 

I  saluted  the  smiling  youth,  in  return  for  his  own  salute,  and 
said : — 

"  Where  have  you  been,  Ashe  ?" 

*'To  Sussex,  colonel,  on  a  foraging  expedition." 

"For  the  general?" 

"  And  some  of  the  staflT,  colonel." 

Ashe  smiled ;  we  rode  on  together. 

"  How  did  you  come  to  be  a  forager,  Ashe?"  I  said. 

"  Well  this  was  the  way  of  it,  colonel,"  he  said.     "  I  belonged 


TO    AND    FRO.  433 

to  tlie  old  Stonewall  brigade,  but  General  Lee  detailed  me  at  the 
start  of  the  war  to  shoe  the  head-quarters  horses.  It  was  old 
General  Robert  that  sent  me  with  these  wagons.  I  was  shoeing 
the  general's  gray,  and  had  just  pared  the  hind-hoof,  when  he  sent 
for  me.  A  man  had  started  with  the  wagons,  and  had  mired  in  the 
field  right  by  head-quarters.  So  old  General  Robert  says,  says 
he,  'Ashe,  you  can  get  them  out.'  I  says,  'General,  I  think  I 
can,  if  you'll  give  me  a  canteen  full  of  your  Frencli  brandy  for  the 
boys.'  He  laughed  at  that,  and  I  says,  '  General,  I  have  been 
with  you  three  years,  and  if  in  that  time  you  have  ever  seen  me 
out  of  the  way,  I  hope  you  will  tell  me  so.'  '  No  Ashe,'  says  he, 
'  I  have  not,  and  you  shall  have  the  brandy.'  And  his  black 
fellow  went  into  the  closet  and  drew  me  a  canteen  full ;  for  you 
see,  colonel,  old  General  Robert  always  keei>s  a  demijohn  full, 
and  carries  it  about  in  his  old  black  spring  wagon,  to  give  to  the 
wounded  soldiers  -he  don't  drink  himself.  Well,  I  got  the  brandy, 
and  set  the  boys  to  work,  building  a  road  with  pine  saplings,  and 
got  the  wagons  out !  From  that  time  to  this,  I  have  been  going 
with  them,  colonel,  and  sometimes  some  very  curious  things 
have  happened." 

I  assumed  that  inquiring  expression  of  countenance  dear  to 
Btory-tellers.     Ashe  saw  it,  and  smiled. 

"  Last  fall,  colonel,"  he  said,  "  I  was  down  on  the  Blackwater, 
foraging  with  my  wagons,  for  old  General  Robert,  when  a  squad- 
ron of  Yankees  crossed  in  the  ferryboat,  and  caught  me.  I  did  not 
try  to  get  off,  and  the  colonel  says,  says  he,  'Who  are  youT  I 
told  him  I  was  only  foraging  with  General  Lee's  head-quarters 
teams,  to  get  something  for  the  old  general  to  eat,  as  nothing 
could  be  bought  in  Petersburg ;  and,  says  I,  '  I  have  long  been 
looking  to  be  captured,  and  now  the  time  has  come.'  As  I  was 
talking,  I  saw  an  uncle  of  mine  among  the  Yankees,  and  says  he, 
'Ashe,  what  are  you  doing  here?'  'The  same  you  are  doing 
there,' I  says ;  and  I  asked  the  colonel  ju5t  to  let  me  off  this 
time,  and  I  would  try  and  keep  out  of  their  way  hereafter.  He 
asked  me.  Would  I  come  down  there  any  more?  And  I  told  him 
I  did'nt  know— I  would  have  to  go  where  I  was  ordered. 
'Well,'  says  he,  'you  can't  beg  off.'  But  I  says,  'step  here  a 
minute,  colonel,'  and  I  took  him  to  the  wagon,  and   offered  him 


434  MOnUN. 

my  canteen  of  brandy.  He  took  three  or  four  good  drinks,  and 
then  he  says,  says  he,  '  That's  all  I  want !  You  can  go  on  with 
your  wagons.'  And  I  tell  you  I  ]>iit  out  quick,  colonel,  and  never 
looked  behind  me  till  I  got  back  to  Petersburg  ?"* 

I  have  attempted  to  recall  here,  reader,  the  few  gleams  of  sun- 
shine, the  rare  moments  of  laughter,  which  I  enjoyed  in  those 
months  of  the  winter  of  186-i-'5. 

I  shrink  from  dwelling  on  the  events  of  that  dreary  epoch. 
Every  day  I  lost  some  friend.  One  day  it  was  the  brave  John 
Pefirrara,  whom  I  had  known  and  loved  from  his  childhood  :  the 
next  day  it  was  some  other,  whose  disappearance  left  a  gap  in 
my  life  which  nothing  thenceforth  could  fill. 

I  pass  over  all  that.  "Why  recall  more  of  the  desolate  epoch 
than  is  necessary  ? 

For  the  rest  that  is  only  a  momentary  laugh  tliat  I  have 
indulged  in.  Events  draw  near,  at  the  memory  of  which  you 
sigh — or  even,  groan  perhaps — to-day,  when  three  years  have 
passed. 

For  this  page  is  written  on  the  morning  of  April  8,  1868. 

This  day,  three  years  ago,  Lee  was  staggering  on  in  sight  of 
Appomattox. 


X. 

^GPJ   S0:M:XIA.— MARCH,  18G5. 

These  letters  and  figures  arouse  terrible  memories — do  they 
not,  reader  ?  You  shudder  as  you  return  in  thought  to  that  epoch, 
provided  always  that  you  then  wore  the  gray,  and  not  the  blue. 
If  you  wore  the  blue,  you  perhaps  laugh. 

The  South  had  reached,  in  this  month  of  March,  one  of  those 
periods  when  the  most  hopeful  can  see,  through  the  black  dark- 
ness, no  single  ray  of  light.  Throughout  the  winter,  the  govern- 
ment had  made  unceasing  efforts  to  bring  out  the  resources  of  the 
country— efforts  honest  and  untiring,  if  not  always  judicious — ^but 

*  In  the  words  of  the  narrator. 


iEGRI    SOAINIA 


435 


"as  tlie  days,  and  weeks,  and  months  wore  on,  it  became  more  and 
more  evident  that  the  hours  of  the  Confederacy  Avere  numbered. 
The  project  of  employino^  negro  troops,  which  Congress  long 
opposed,  had  been  adopted  at  h\st,  but  only  in  time  to  be  too  late! 
The  peace  commissioners  had  held  their  interview  with  Lincoln, 
but  effected  nothing.  The  enemy  continually  advanced  toward 
the  achievement  of  their  end.  Sherman  had  safely  made  his 
famous  "march  to  the  sea"— Savannah  and  Charleston  had 
fallen— the  western  army  was  about  to  unite  with  the  army  of 
Grant  at  Petersburg.  There  the  great  game  went  on,  but  the 
end  was  near.  Lee  had  attempted,  late  in  February,  to  evacuate 
his  lines,  but  was  overruled.  His  army  was  reduced  to  about 
forty  thousand,  while  GrantVs  numbered  about  one  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand.  The  Confederate  troops  were  almost  naked,  and 
had  scarce  food  enough  to  sustain  life.  They  fought  still,  in  the 
trenches,  along  the  great  line  of  works,  but  it  was  plain,'  as  Lee 
said,  that  the  line  was  stretched  so  far,  that  a  very  little  more 
would  snap  it. 

That  line  extended  from  the  Williamsburg  road,  east  of  Rich- 
mond to  Five  Forks,  west  of  Petersburg— a  distance  of  nearly 
fifty  miles.     Gradually  Grant   had  pushed   westward,  until    his 
grasp  was  now  very  nearly  upon   the   Southside  road.     Lee  had 
extended   his  own  thin  line  to  still  confront  him.     The  TThite 
Oak   road,  beyond  the  Rowanty,  had  been   defended  by  heavy 
works.     The  hill  above  Burgess's  bristled  with  batteries.     The 
extreme   right  of  the  Confederate  line  rested  in  the  vicinity  of 
Five  Forks.     Beyond  that  it  could  not  be  extended.     Already  it 
began  to  crack.     Along  the  works  stretching  from  east  to  west, 
there  was  scarce  a  soldier  every  ten  yards.     Grant  was  onlv  pre- 
vented from  bursting  through  by  the  masterly  handling  of  Lee's 
troops— the  rapid  concentration  of  masses  at  the  points  which 
he  threatened.     The  cavalry  was  almost  paralyzed.     The  destruc- 
tion of  the  Weldon  road  southward  to  Hicksford,  in  December, 
had  been  a  death-blow  nearly,  to  that  arm  of  the  service.     The 
Confederate  cavalry  had  depended  upon  it,  hauling  their  forage 
from  Stony  Creek  Station.     Xov\'  they  had  been  compelled  to  go 
south  to  Hicksford,  the  nearest  point,  fifty  miles  from  Peter's^ 
burg.     The  consequence  was  that  Lee's  right  was  almost  unde- 


436  MOHUN. 

fended  by  cavalry.'  Grant's  horsemen  could  penetrate,  almost 
unchecked,  to  the  Danville  and  Southside  railroads.  The  marvel 
Tvas,  not  that  this  was  effected  at  tlie  end  of  March,  hut  that  it 
was  not  effected  a  month  sooner.     But  I  anticipate. 

To  glance,  for  an  instant  before  proceeding,  at  the  condition  of 
the  country.     It  had  reached  the  last  point  of  depression,  and 
was  yielding  to  despair.     The  government  was  enormously  un- 
popular— mismanagement  had  ceased  to  attract  attention.      The 
])ress  roared  in  vain.      The  Enquirer  menaced  the  members  of 
Congress  from  the  Gulf  States.     The  Examiner  urged  that  the 
members  of  the  Virginia  Legislature,  to  be  elected  in  the  spring, 
should  be  "clothed  with  the  state  sovereignty,"  to  act  for  Vir- 
ginia!    Thus  the  executive  and  legislative  were  both  attacked. 
The  people  said,  "Make  General  Lee  dictator."     And  General 
wrote  and  printed  that,  in  such  an  event,  he  "had  the  dag- 
ger of  Brutus"  for  Lee.     Thus  all  things  were  in  confusion.     The 
currency  was  nothing  but  paper — it  was  a  melancholy  farce  to 
call  it  money.     The  Confederate  note  was  popularly  regarded  as 
worth   little   more  tlian  the  paper  upon  wljich  it  was  printed. 
Fathers  of  families  went  to  market  and  paid  hundreds  of  dollars 
for  the  few  pounds  of  meat  which  their  households  required  each 
day.     Officers  were  forced  to  pay  one  thousand  dollars  for  their 
boots.     Old  saddle-bags  were  cut  up,  and  the  hides  of  dead  horses 
carried  off,  to  manufacture  into  shoes.     Uniform  coats  were  no 
longer  procurable — the  government  had  to  supply  them  gratis, 
even  to  field  officers.     Lee  subsisted,  like  his  soldiers,  on  a  little 
grease  and  corn  bread.      Officers  travelling  on  duty,  carried  in 
their  saddle-pockets  bits  of  bacon  and  stale  bread,  for  the  country 
could  not  supply  them.     In  the  homes  of  the  land  once  overflow- 
ing with  plenty,  it  was  a  question  each  day  where  food  could 
be  procured.      The  government   had   impressed    every  particle, 
except  just  sufficient  to  keep  the  inmates  alive.     What  the  coin- 
rpissaries  had  left,  the  "Yankee  cavalry"  took.     A  lady  of  Gooch- 
land said  to  a  Federal  officer,  "  General,  I  can  understand  why 
you  destroy  railroads  and  bridges,  but  why  do  you  burn  mills, 
and  the  houses  over  women  and  children  ?"     The  oflicer  bowed, 
and  replied,  "Madam,  your  soldiers  are  so  brave  that  we  can't 
beat  you  ;  and  we  are  trying  to  starve  youV 


JEGRl    SOMNIA.  437 

The  interior  of  these  liomes  of  the  country  \\-as  a  touching 
spectacle.  The  women  were  making  every  sacrifice.  Delicate 
hands  performed  duties  which  had  always  fallen  to  menials. 
The  servants  had  gone  to  the  enemy,  and  aristocratic  young 
women  cooked,  washed,  swept,  and  drudged — a  charming  spec- 
tacle perhaps  to  the  enemy,  who  hated  the  "aristocracy,"  but 
woeful  to  fathers,  and  sons,  and  brotliers,  when  they  came  home 
sick,  or  wounded.  Clothes  had  long  grown  shabby,  and  were 
turned  and  mended.  Exquisite  beauty  was  decked  in  rags.  A 
faded  calico  was  a  treasure.  The  gray-haired  gentleman,  who 
had  always  worn  broadcloth,  was  content  with  patched  home- 
spun. It  was  not  of  these  things  that  they  were  thinking,  how- 
ever. Dress  had  not  made  those  seigneurs  and  dames — nor 
could  the  want  of  it  hide  their  dignity.  The  father,  and  care- 
worn wife,  and  daughter,  and  sister,  were  thinking  of  other  things. 
The  only  son  was  fighting  beside  Lee— dying  yonder,  in  the 
trenches.  He  was  only  a  "  poor  private,"  clad  in  rags  and  carry- 
ing a  musket — but  he  was  the  last  of  a  long  line,  perhaps,  of  men 
who  had  built  up  Virginia  and  the  Federal  government  which  ho 
was  fighting — he  was  "only  a  private,"  but  his  blood  was  illus- 
trious; more  than  all,  he  was  the  treasure  of  the  gray-haired 
father  and  mother;  the  head  of  the  house  in  the  future;  if  he 
fell,  the  house  would  fall  with  him — and  it  was  nearly  certain 
that  he  would  fall ! 

So  they  mourned,  and  looked  fearfully  to  the  coming  hours,  in 
town  and  country.  In  the  old  homesteads — poverty  and  despi)ir. 
In  the  cities — wasting  cares  and  sinking  hearts.  More  than  ever 
before,  all  the  vile  classes  of  society  rioted  and  held  sway.  The 
forestallers  and  engrossers  drove  a  busy  trade.  They  seemed  to 
feel  that  their  "time  was  short" — that  the  night  was  coming,  in 
which  not  even  rascals  could  work!  Supplies  were  hoarded,  and 
doled  out  at  famine  prices  to  the  famine-stricken  community  ; 
not  supplies  of  luxuries,  but  of  the  commonest  necessaries  of  life. 
The  portly  extortioner  did"  not  invite  custom,  either.  Once  he 
had  bowed  and  smirked  behind  his  counter  when  a  purchaser 
entered.  ISTow,  he  turned  his  back  coldly,  went  on  reading  his 
newspaper,  scarce  replied  to  the  words  addressed  to  him,  and 
threw  his  goods  on  the  counter  with  the  air  of  one  reluctantly 


438  MOHUy. 

conferring  a  favor.  Foreboding  had  entered  even  tlie  hearts  of 
the  forestaller  and  extortioner.  They  had  sold  tlieir  souls  for 
gain,  and  that  gain  was  turning  to  dross.  As  at  the  wave 
of  a  magician's  ^vand,  their  crisp  new  "  Confederate  notes " 
had  become  rags.  The  biter  was  bit.  His  gains  -were  to 
count  for  nothing.  Extortioner  and  victim  were  soon  to 
be  stripped  equally  naked — the  cold  blast  of  ruin  was  to  freeze 
both  alike. 

Thus,  all  things  hastened  toward  the  inevitable  catastrophe. 
Brave  hearts  did  not  shrink,  but  they  saw  ruin  striding  on.  Every 
thing  crumbled — the  Confederacy  was  staggering  and  gasping  in 
the  death  agony.  Day  by  day  the  cause  was  slowly,  but  certainly, 
being  lost.  Children  cried  aloud  for  bread — women  moaned,  and 
knelt,  and  prayed.  Their  last  hope  w^as  leaving  them.  Lee's 
array  was  starving  and  dying.  Hour  by  hour,  nearer  and  nearer 
came  the  roar  of  the  gulf  of  destruction.  A  sort  of  stupor  de- 
scended. The  country — prostrate  and  writhing — tried  to  rise,  but 
could  not.  The  government  knew  not  where  to  turn,  or  what 
course  to  pursue.  Grant  was  growing  in  strength  hourly.  Lee's 
little  force  was  dwindling.  Sherman  was  streaming  tlirougli 
South  Carolina.  Grant  was  reaching  out  toward  Five  Forks.  All- 
destroying  war  grinned  hideously — on  all  sides  stared  gaunt 
Famine.  The  air  jarred  with  the  thunder  of  cannon.  The  days 
and  nights  blazed,  and  were  full  of  wild  cries — of  shouts,  groans, 
and  reverberations.  The  ground  shook — the  grave  yawned — the 
black  cloud  slowly  drew^  on ;  that  cloud  from  which  the  thunder- 
bolt was  about  to  fall. 

How  to  describe  in  a  volume  like  this,  now  near  its  end,  that 
terrible  state  of  coma — that  approaching  cataclysm,  in  which  all 
things,  social,  civil,  and  military  were  about  to  disappear  !  The 
whole  fabric  of  society  was  going  to  pieces;  every  hour  flamed 
with  battles;  tragic  events  jostled  each  other ;  blood  gushed;  a 
people  were  wailing ;  a  victorious  enemy  were  rushing  on ;  the 
whole  continent  trembled ;  Lee  was  being  swept  away,  in  spite 
of  every  effort  which  he  made  to  steady  his  feet — and  that  torrent 
was  going  to  engulf  a  whole  nation ! 

All  this  I  am  to  describe  in  the  last  few  pages  of  this  volume! 
The  task  is  far  beyond  my  strength.     In  the  future,  some  writer 


I    VISIT    GEIT.    FITZHUGH    LEE.  439 

may  delineate  that  hideous  dream — to  do  so  to-daj,  in  this  year 
18G8,  would  tear  the  stoutest  heart. 

For  myself,  I  do  not  attempt  it.  "Were  I  able  to  paint  the 
picture,  there  wonld  be  no  space.  My  memoir  is  nearly  ended. 
The  threads  of  the  "woof  are  nearly  spun  out,  and  the  loom  is 
going  to  stop.  Death  stands  ready  with  his  shears  to  cut  the 
ravelled  thread,  knit  up  the  seam,  and  put  his  red  label  on  the 
fabric  I 


XL 

I    VISIT    GEKERAL    FITZHQGH    LEE. 

The  end  of  March,  1865,  was  approaching  when  I  set  out  on 
■what  was  to  prove  my  last  tour  of  duty  amid  the  pine  woods  of 
Dinwiddle. 

It  was  a  relief  to  be  back  in  the  armv :  to  see  brave  faces  and 
smiles  around  me,  instead  of  gloomy  eyes  and  careworn  cheeks, 
as  in  the  city.  I  passed  along  the  Boydton  road  almost  gayly; 
crossed  the  Rowanty  at  Burgess',  and  went  on  by  General  Lee's 
powerful  works  covering  the  White  Oak  road,  beyond.  Soon 
I  was  approaching  Dinwiddle  Oourt-House,  in  the  vicinity  of 
which  was  encamped  our  small  force  of  starved  and  broken- 
down  cavalry. 

Hampton  had  gone  to  meet  Sherman,  and  the  cavalry  was 
commanded  now  by  General  Fitzhugh  Lee,  who  had  recovered 
from  his  severe  wound  received  at  Winchester.  I  was  greeted  by 
this  brave  soldier  and  accomplished  gentleman  as  warmly  as  I 
could  have  desired — for  "General  Fitz,"  as  we  always  called  him 
at  Stuart's  head-quarters,  was  the  soul  of  good  humor  and  good 
fellowship.  You  have  seen  him,  have  you  not,  reader — whether 
you  wore  gray  or  blue — fighting  beside  him,  or  meeting  him  in 
battle  ?  You  recall  the  open  and  manly  features,  the  frank  and 
soldierly  glance  of  the  eye,  the  long  benrd  and  heavy  mustache, 
almost  always  curling  with  laughter?  You  remember  the  mirth- 
ful voice,  the  quick  jest,  the  tone  of  badinage — that  joyful  and 
19 


44:0  *  MOHUN". 

brave  air  which  said,  "as  long  as  life  lasts  there  is  hope  !"  You 
have  not  forgotten  this  gay  cavalier,  the  brother-in-arms  of 
Stuart;  this  born  cavalryman,  with  his  love  of  adventure,  his 
rollicking  mirth,  his  familiar  greeting  of  high  and  low,  his  charm- 
ing abandon  and  ever-ready  laughter.  That  was  the  character 
of  the  individual — ^^of  "Fitz  Lee,"  the  good  companion.  The  com- 
mander-in-chief has  defined  for  all,  the  traits  of  Major-General 
Fitzhugh  Lee.  It  was  General  R.  E.  Lee  who  wrote  him  in  18G3, 
"  Your  admirable  conduct,  devotion  to  the  cause  of  your  coontry, 
and  devotion  to  duty,  fill  me  with  pleasure.  I  hope  you  will 
soon  see  her  efforts  for  independence  crowned  with  success,  and 
long  live  to  enjoy  the  affection  and  gratitude  of  your  country." 

These  few  lines  were  worth  fighting  hard  for — were  they  not? 
All  things  change ;  many  things  fail.  Chaos  or  monarchy  may 
come,  but  the  good  opinion  of  Lee  will  survive  all ! 

I  talked  with  General  Fitz  Lee  for  an  hour  nearly,  recalling  the 
old  days  with  Stuart,  who  had  loved  and  confided  in  him  more 
than  in  any  other  living  man.  It  was  a  beautiful  friendship,  in- 
deed, and  each  understood  the  value  of  the  other  as  man  and  sol- 
dier. Stuart  is  dead,  and  can  not  give  his  testimony  ;  but  General 
Fitz  Lee  is  alive,  and  can  give  his.  Here  and  there  a  voice  still 
denies  Stuart's  genius  as  a  commander.  Ask  his  friend  who  sur- 
vives ;  and  if  tears  do  not  choke  the  voice,  you  will  learn  the  real 
rank  of  Stuart ! 

But  I  can  not  linger  on  these  scenes.  The  narrative  draws 
on. 

I  mounted  my  horse,  after  shaking  hands  with  General  Fitz 
Lee  and  his  brave  staff,  and,  for  the  first  time,  remembered  to 
ask,  "Where  was  Tom  Herbert?" 

At  that  question,  a  beaming  smile  came  to  every  countenance. 

"  Done  for !"  said  one. 

"  Captured!"  laughed  another. 

"Demoralized,  subjugated,  and  negotiating  with  the  enemy!" 
said  a  third. 

"  "Well,  where  is  the  place  of  meeting — where  are  the  terms 
being  arranged  ?"  I  said. 

"  At  a  place  called  Disaways,  on  the  lower  Rowanty  I" 

"  Good!     I  know  the  road  there,"  I  said. 


BY    A    FIRE    IN    THE    WOODS.  441 

And  with  a  laugh,  which  the  general  and  his  gay  cavaliers 
echoed,  I  touched  nij  gray  with  the  spur,  and  set  out  toward  the 
south. 


xn. 

BY  A  FIRE   IN   THE  WOODS. 

I  prsHED  on,  having  resolved,  after  jQnishing  my  duties,  to  visit 
Disaways. 

Soon  Dinwiddle  Court-IIouse  came  in  sight.  I  entered  the  small 
village,  and  looked  attentively — as  I  had  done  on  more  than  one 
occasion  before — at  the  locality  which  General  Davenant's  narra- 
tive had  surrounded  v/ith  so  strange  an  interest.  There  was  the 
old  tavern,  with  its  long  portico,  where  Darke  had  held  his  orgies, 
and  from  which  he  had  set  forth  on  his  errand  of  robbery  and 
murder.  There  was  the  county  jail,  in  which  General  Davenant 
had  insisted  upon  being  confined,  and  where  so  many  friends  had 
visited  him.  There  was  the  old  court-house,  in  which  he  had 
been  tried  for  the  murder  of  George  Conway ;  and  I  fancied  I 
could  distinguish  upon  one  of  the  shutters,  the  broken  bolt  which 
Darke  had  forced,  more  than  ten  years  before,  in  order  to  purloin, 
the  knife  with  which  the  crime  had  been  committed. 

For  some  miles,  that  tragic  story  absorbed  me,  banishing  all 
other  reiiections.  That  was  surely  the  strangest  of  histories! — 
and  the  drama  had  by  no  means  reached  its  denouement.  Be- 
tween the  first  and  last  a^ts  "  an  interval  of  ten  years  is  supposed 
to  pass."  There  was  the  stage  direction!  Darke  was  still  alive, 
active,  dangerous,  bent  on  mischief.  He  had  an  able  coadjutress 
in  his  female  ally.  That  singular  woman,  with  whom  his  life  was 
so  closely  connected,  was  in  prison,  it  was  true,  but  the  Confed- 
erate authorities  might  release  her;  she  might,  at  any  moment, 
recommence  her  diablerie.  Had  she  found  that  paper — or  had 
Mohun  found  it?  In  any  event,  she  was  dangerous — more  so, 
even,  than  her  male  companion — that  worthy  whom  I  might  meet 


44-2  MO  HUN. 

at  every  turn  in  tbe  road — that  prince  of  surprises  and  tragic 
"  appearances!" 

"Decidedly,  these  are  curiosities,  this  man  and  this  woman  I'* 
I  said ;  "  they  are  two  bottomless  pits  of  daring  and  depravity, 
^ifohun  has  escaped  them  heretofore,  but  now,  when  the  enemy 
seem  driving  us,  and  sweeping  every  thing  before  them,  will  not 
I)arke  and  madam  attain  their  vengeance,  and  come  out  winners  in 
the  struggle?" 

With  that  reflection,  I  dismissed  the  subject,  and  pushed  on, 
over  the  narrow  and  winding  roads,  to  make  my  inspections. 

The  day  was  cold  and  brilliant;  the  winds  cut  the  face;  and  I 
rode  on  steadily,  thinking  of  many  things.  Then  the  desire  to 
smoke  seized  upon  me.  General  Fitzhugh  Lee  had  given  me 
some  excellent  cigars,  captured  from  the  enemy,  and  I  looked 
around  to  find  some  house  where  I  could  light  my  cigar.  None 
appeared  ;  but  at  two  hundred  yards  from  the  road,  in  a  hidden 
hollow,  I  thought  I  perceived  the  glimmer  of  a  fire — probably 
made  by  some  straggler.  I  rode  toward  it,  descended  into  the 
hollow,  approached  the  fire,  beside  which  crouched  a  figure, 
wrapped  in  an  overcoat.  The  figure  raised  its  head — and  I  re- 
cocrnized  Nighthawk. 

He  rose  and  smiled  beniguantly,  as  he  shook  hands  with 
me. 

"  An  unexpected  meeting,  Nighthawk,"  I  said,  laughing. 
"  What  on  earth  makes  you  come  out  and  camp  in  the  woods?" 

"A  little  fancy,  colonel;  you  know  I  am  eccentric.  I  like  this 
wav  of  livins:,  from  having  scouted  so  much — but  I  came  here 
with  an  object!" 

"What?" 

"  To  be  private.  I  thought  my  fire  could  not  be  seen  from  the 
road." 

''  Why  should  it  not  be  ?" 

"  Well,  perhaps  I  exaggerate  danger.  But  I  am  on  an  import- 
ant scouting  expedition  —  wanted  to  reflect,  and  not  be  seen — 
I  am  going,  to-night,  through  the  lines  on  a  little  affair  of  which 
you  know  something." 

"Ah,  what  do  you  refer  to?" 

"  That  paper,"  said  Xighthawk,  succinctly.    "  It  is  in  the  hands 


BY    A    FIRE    IX    THE    WOODS.  443 

of  Alibi— there  is  a  Yankee  picket  at  his  house— hut  I  am  going 
to  see  him,  and  force  hira  to  surrender  it." 

''  Is  it  possible  he  has  it !     Do  you  know  that  ?" 

"  Strangely  enough,  colonel     Do  jou  remember  that  woman 
Amanda?"  ' 

"Perfectly.     I  visited  her  with  Mohun." 

"He  told  me  of  your  visit.  Well,  you  no  doubt  remember  also, 
colonel,  that  he  offered  her  a  large  sum  to  discover  the  paper- 
that  she  offered  to  try  and  find  it,  or  give  him  a  clue  to  its  where- 
abouts—he was  to  return  in  ten  days,  and  hear  her  report  " 

"Yes,"  I  said. 

"Well,  he  returned,  colonel,  but  Amanda  could  tell  him 
nothing— which  yen  no  doubt  have  heard." 

"Yes,  from  him." 

"I  have  been  more  successful,  at  last,  in  dealing  with  this 
strange  woman.  I  do  not  know  if  she  is  a  witch  or  an  epileptic, 
or  what— but  she  has  convinced  me  that  Alibi  has  the  paper  we 
want." 

And  Xighthawk  proceeded  to  explain.  It  was  an  exceedingly 
curious  explanation.  Amanda  had  first  demanded  of  him  a  state- 
ment of  all  the  facts.  He  had  thereupon  informed  her  of  the  ap- 
pointment which  he  had  made  with  Swartz  in  Richmond,  to  meet 
him  three  days  afterward  at  the  house  of  Alibi— of  his  detention 
by  the  pickets,  so  that  he  had  been  unable  to  keep  the  appoint- 
ment—Alibi's statement  when  he  saw  him,  that  Swartz  had  not 
been  to  his  house— and  Swartz's  confinement  in  the  lonely  house, 
ending  in  his  murder  by  Darke.  That  was  all  he  knew,  he  said 
— the  paper  was  gone — where  was  it? 

"At  Mr.  Alibi's,"  Amanda  had  replied  ;  "I  only  asked  you  this, 
Mr.  Xighthawk,  to  satisfy  myself  that  my  visions  were  true.  / 
saw  poor  Mr.  Swartz  go  to  Mr.  Alibi's,  and  ask  for  you,  on  the  day 
you  appointed.  When  he  was  told  that  you  had  not  come,  he 
seemed  very  low-spirited,  and  told  Mr.  Alibi  that  he  must  see  you, 
to  give  you  a  paper.  His  life  was  threatened,  he  said,  on  account 
of  that  paper.  An  officer  and  a  lady  had  discovered  that  he  had 
that  paper— it  was  as  much  as  his  life  was  worth  to  keep  it  on  his 
person  -if  Mr.  Alibi  would  take  it,  and  for  old  times'  sake,  put  it 
away  until  he  came  back,  he  would  pay  him  as  much  gold  as  ho 


444  .  MOHUN. 

conld  hold  in  both  hands.     Then  he  gave  the  paper  to  ^Mr.  Alibi, 
and  went  away,  telling  him  to  say  nothing  of  it." 

"  I  then  asked  her,"  continued  Nighthawk,  "  where  the  paper 
could  be  found.  She  replied  that  Alibi  always  carried  it  on  his 
person.  That  was  a  few  days  ago.  I  am  going  to-niglit  to  see 
him,  and  recover  the  paper." 

I  had  listened  to  this  narrative  with  strange  interest.  This 
singular  woman  was  a  curious  problem.  "Were  her  visions  really 
such  as  she  described  them  ?  Or  did  she  only  "  put  this  and  that 
together,"  as  the  phrase  is,  and  by  her  marvellous  acumen, 
sharpened  possibly  by  disease,  arrive  at  results  which  defied  the 
most  penetrating  glance  of  the  sane?  I  knew  not — but  reflecting 
often  upon  this  subject  since,  have  finally  come  to  the  latter  con- 
clusion, as  the  more  philosophic  of  the  two.  Epilepsy  is  insanity 
of  mind  and  body;  and  one  of  the  most  infallible  cliaracteristics 
of  insanity  is  cunning — which  is  only  another  word  for  diseased 
and  abnormal  activity  of  brain.  Amanda  arrived  at  strange  re- 
sults, but  I  think  she  attained  them  by  disease.  Her  acumen  in 
this  atfair  could  be  thus  explained,  almost  wholly.  As  to  the 
truth  of  the  explanation,  I  felt  a  singular  presentiment  that  it  was 
correct. 

"Well,  that  is  curious  enough,"  I  said,  "and  I  wish  you  suc- 
cess, Kighthawk.  "What  of  our  other  female  friend — the  fair  lady 
you  arrested  in  Richmond  ?'' 

"  She  is  safe  enough,  colonel,  and  I  don't  think  she  will  trouble 
us  soon." 

"  I  am  glad  of  it.    I  think  her  the  more  dangerous  of  the  two.'''* 

"  And  I  agree  with  you." 

"When  did  you  see  Darke,  last?" 

"  I  have  not  met  him  for  three  months." 

"  He  can  not  be  dead  ?" 

"  He  may  be  wounded." 

"  And  Mohun — is  he  at  his  head-quarters  ?" 
Kighthawk  smiled. 

"  He  is  at  Five  Forks,  to-day,  colonel." 

"And  Willie  Davenant?" 

"In  Richmond,  on  business  at  the  war  department." 

"  Humph  !    So  I  shall  see  neither — but  another  time." 


TEA    UNDER    DIFFICULTIES.  44:5 

And  mounting  my  horse,  I  added  : — 
"  Good  luck,  Nighthawk." 
"  Thank  you,  colonel — the  same  to  you." 

And  leaving  Nighthawk  crouching  do^'n  beside  his  fire,  I  rode 
on. 


xm. 

DRINKINa   TEA   UNDER   DIFFICULTIES. 

PusHixo  on,  I  reached  the  cavalry  and  horse  artillery,  which  I 
was  soon  done  with — you  see  I  dismiss  "  official""  matters  with 
commendable  rapidity,  reader — then  I  went  on  across  Roney's 
bridge  and  along  the  "  Flat  Foot  road"  toward  Disaways. 

Following,  amid  a  great  wind  and  falling  boughs,  this  winding 
road,  stretching  onward  between  its  lofty  walls  of  pines — a  wild 
and  deserted  track,  outside  of  the  pickets,  and  completely  un- 
travelled.  I  reerossed  Stony  Creek,  rode  on  over  a  bridle-path, 
and  came  just  at  sunset  in  sight  of  the  hill  upon  which  Disaways 
raised  its  ancient  gables,  near  the  Rowanty. 

My  horse  neighed  as  he  cantered  up,  and  passed  under  the 
great  oaks.  He  seemed  to  feel  that  this  was  something  like  home 
to  him  now,  and  that  his  day's  march  was  over.  In  fact,  all  the 
months  of  winter  I  had  regularly  stopped  at  Disaways  on  my  way 
to  the  cavalry  at  Hicksford.  My  friends  had  pathetically  remon- 
strated—  "there  was  not  a  single  picket  on  the  Rowanty  in  front 
of  me,  there,  and  I  would  certainly  be  captured  some  day," — but 
I  had  persisted  in  stopping  there  still,  on  every  tour  which  I  made. 
How  to  resist  the  temptation !  Disaways  was  just  thirty  miles 
from  Petersburg.  I  always  reached  its  vicinity  as  night  fell,  on 
the  dark  winter  days.  I  was  always  cold,  hungry,  weary,  de- 
pressed by  the  dull  gray  skies ;  and  I  knew  what  awaited  me 
there — a  blazing  fire,  a  good  supper,  and  Katy's  smiles  brighter 
than  sunshine !  She  always  ran  to  greet  me,  with  both  hands 
extended.      Her  blue   eyes  danced  with  joy,  her  rosy  cheeks 


446  MOHUX. 

glowed,  her  lips  laughed,  and  were  like  carnations,  her  goldea 
ringlets  fell  in  a  shower  over  her  white  and  delicate  temples,  or 
were  blown  back  in  ripples  by  the  wintry  wind. 

Could  you  have  resisted  that,  my  dear  reader  ?  "Would  you 
have  shrunk  from  Yankee  scouting  parties?  For  my  part  I 
thought  I  would  risk  it.  I  might  be  surprised  and  captured  at 
any  moment — the  territory  was  open  to  the  enemy — but  I  would 
have  had  a  charming  evening,  would  have  been  cheered  by  Katy's 
sunshine — while  I  was  alive  and  free,  I  would  have  lived,  and  in 
a  manner  the  most  delightful ! 

Hitherto  some  angel  had  watched  over  me,  and  Disaways 
had  been  unvisited  by  the  enemy's  scouting  parties,  without  so 
much  as  a  vedette  at  the  Hdifax  bridge,  within  half  a  mile,  I  had 
sat  by  the  fire,  eaten  countless  suppers,  laughed  and  conversed 
with  my  good  friends,  slept  soundly  in  a  real  bed,  and  gone  on 
my  way  in  the  morning  rejoicing. 

I  had  thus  always  escaped  surprise.  No  enemy  ever  annoyed 
me.  It  was  the  old  adage,  however,  of  the  pitcher  that  went  to 
the  well  so  often  ! — but  let  me  go  on  with  my  narrative. 

As  my  horse  uttered  his  shrill  neigh  now,  ringing  through  the 
March  evening,  the  door  opened  and  Katy  ran  out  to  greet  me. 
She  had  never  looked  more  beautiful,  and  I  recall  still,  as  though 
I  had  seen  it  yesterday,  the  charming  smile  on  her  red  lips.  The 
wind  blew  back  her  ringlets  till  they  resembled  golden  ripples — 
the  rosy  cheeks  were  flushed — there  madam  !  (I  say  this  to  some 
one  who  is  leaning  over  my  shoulder,  and  laughing)  don't  be- 
grudge me  these  smiling  memories !  Katy  was  only  my  little 
niece  as  it  were — she  is  married  and  far  away  now.  jN"ay,  Surry 
ought  to  love  and  be  grateful  to  the  little  lady  who  took  such 
good  care,  in  those  grim  days,  of — your  husband,  madam  ! 

Behind  Katy  appeared  the  faces  of  the  excellent  family,  who 
cordially  greeted  me.  Behind  all  appeared  the  blushing  but  dan- 
dified Tom  Herbert. 

"  Ah  !  there  is  a  straggler !"  I  said.  "  "Why  don't  you  send  him 
back  to  his  command,  ladies  ?  Every  man  should  be  at  his  post 
in  this  trying  moment!" 

"Oh,  bother,  my  dear  Surry!  what  a  tongue  you  have!"  ex- 
claimed Tom. 


TEA    UNDER    DIFFICULTIES.  447 

"I  see  General  Fitz  was  right,  or  his  staff  rather,  in  what  they 
told  ;ne,  Tom." 

"  What  did  they  tell  yon,  ray  dear  boy  ?" 

"That  you  were  demoralized  and  captured!" 

Sweet  smile  on  the  faces  of  tlie  family  at  these  words ! 

"That  you  had  acknowledged  your  weakness,  seen  that  further 
resistance  was  hopeless,  and  were  already  negotiating  a  sur- 
render to  the  enemy.  "Well,  Tom,  what  are  the  terms?  Are 
thev  arranged  ?" 

Suddenly  I  felt  my  hair  pulled  by  an  enemy  from  behind  ;  and 
looking  round  I  saw  Miss  Katy  passing  by,  with  an  immense  ap- 
pearance of  innocence.  Her  face  was  blushing  ;  her  lips  emitted 
a  low  laugh  ;  and  seeing  that  no  one  was  looking  at  her,  she 
raised  her  finger  in  silent  menace  at  me. 

This  caused  a  diversion,  and  Tom  was  enabled  to  rally  his 
forces. 

"My  dear  Surry,"  he  said,  smiling,  with  his  delightfully  foppish 
air,  "  it  always  charms  me  to  meet  you,  for  you  are  always  spark- 
ling, brilliant,  full  of  wit;  which  reminds  me  of  the  good  old  days 
with  Stuart!  You  have  only  one  fault,  my  boy,  you  think  your- 
self a  philosopher.  Don't  do  that,  I  beg,  Surry ! — But  what's  the 
news  from  Petersburg?" 

I  acquiesced  in  the  change  of  topic,  and  gave  Tom  the  news; 
but  I  was  looking  at  Katy. 

More  than  ever  before  I  admired  that  little  "bird  of  beauty," 
flitting  about  with  charming  grace,  and  an  irresistible  business 
air,  to  get  me  ray  supper,  for  the  rest  had  just  finished.  This 
privilege  she  always  claimed  when  I  came  to  Disaways  ;  fighting 
furiously,  if  the  excellent  lady  of  the  manor  attempted  to  sup- 
plant her.  Looking  at  her,  as  she  ran  about  now,  engaged  in  her 
most  admirable  occupation,  I  thought  her  lovelier  than  ever  before 
— certainly  than  when  talking  in  the  woods  with  Tom !  You  see 
she  was  getting  my  supper,  reader! — and  it  seemed  to  be  a  labor 
of  love.  The  little  fairy  ran  on  her  tiptoes  from  sideboard  to 
table;  spread  a  snowy  napkin,  and  placed  a  gilt  china  plate  upon 
it;  made  tea;  covered  the  table  with  edibles;  and  placed  beside 
my  plate  a  great  goblet  of  yellow  cream,  of  the  consistency  of 
syrup.     Then  she  poured  out  my  tea,  set  my  chair  to  the  table, 

19* 


4i8  mohu:n". 

and  came  with  courtesy  and  laughing  ceremony,  to  offer  me  "her 
arm,  and  lead  me  to  my  seat. 

Men  are  ^veak,  worthy  reader,  and  the  most  "  romantic  and 
poetical  "  of  us  all,  have  much  of  the  animal  in  us.  Tliat  is  a 
mortifying  confession.  I  was  terribly  hungry,  and  at  that  mo- 
ment 1  think  my  attention  was  more  closely  riveted  on  the  table, 
than  even  upon  Miss  Katy  with  her  roses  and  ringlets. 

I  therefore  unbuckled  my  sabre,  placed  the  little  hand  on  my 
arm,  and  was  about  to  proceed  toward  the  table,  wlien  a  s'.iot, 
accompanied  by  a  shout,  was  heard  from  the  direction  of  the 
Rowanty. 

I  went  and  buckled  on  my  sword  again.  Then  seeing  Tom  rise 
quickly — to  get  liis  horse  ready,  he  said — I  requested  him  to  have 
my  own  resaddled,  and  returned  to  the  table. 

I  had  just  raised  the  cup  of  tea  to  my  lips,  amid  warnings 
from  the  family,  to  take  care  or  I  would  be  captured,  wlien  a 
cavalryman  galloped  up  the  hill,  and  stopped  in  front  of  the 
door. 

"  Look  out,  the  Yankees  are  coming  !"  he  cried. 

I  glanced  through  the  window,  and  recognized  a  man  of 
Mohun's  command,  who  also  recognized  me. 

"How  near  are  they?"  I  said,  attempting  to  swallow  the 
burning  tea. 

"  Not  a  quarter  of  a  mile  off,  colonel!" 

"That  will  give  me  time,"  I  said. 

And  I  applied  myself  again  to  the  tea,  which  this  time  I  poured 
out  into  the  saucer,  in  order  to  cool  it. 

"Look  out,  colonel!"  cried  the  man. 

"  "Where  are  they  ?" 

"At  the  gate." 

I  finished  the  tea,  and  the  goblet  of  cream  just  as  the  man 
shouted : — 

"  Here  they  are,  right  on  you,  colonel !" 

And  I  heard  the  sound  of  a  galloping  horse,  accompanied  by 
shots  at  the  retreating  cavalryman. 

I  went  quickly  to  the  window.  A  column  of  Federal  cavalry 
was  rapidly  ascending  the  hill.  By  the  last  beams  of  day  I  rec- 
ognized Darke  at  tlie  head  of  the  column;  and  by  his  side  rode 


TEA    UNDEPw    DIFFICULTIES.  M9 

Mr.  Alibi.  I  tbouglit  I  could  see  that  Darke  was  thin  and  very 
pale,  but  was  not  certain.  The  light  was  faint,  and  I  had  only 
one  glance — discretion  suggested  a  quick  retreat. 

I  just  grazed  capture — passing  through  the  door,  in  rear  of 
the  mansion,  at  the  very  moment  when  a  number  of  the  enemy, 
who  had  hastily  dismounted,  rushed  in  at  the  front  door. 

Tom  was  mounted,  and  holding  my  horse,  which  the  good  boy 
had  saddled  with  his  own  hands.  I  leaped  to  saddle,  and  had 
scarcely  done  so,  when  a  pistol  bullet  whizzed  by  my  head.  It  had 
crashed  through  a  pane  of  the  window  from  within — and  a  loud 
shout  followed.     We  had  been  perceived. 

Under  these  circumstances,  my  dear  reader,  we  always  ran  in 
the  late  war.  Some  persons  considered  it  disgraceful  to  run  or 
dodge,  but  they  were  civilians. 

"Don't  run  until  you  are  obliged  to,  but  then  run  like 
the !"  said  a  hard-fighting  general. 

And  one  day  when  a  lady  was  telling  General  R.  E.  Lee,  how  a 
friend  of  hers  had  dodged  once,  the  general  turned  to  the  laughing 
oiEcer,  and  said  in  his  deep  voice,  "  That's  right,  captain,  dodge 
all  you  can  ! " 

I  have  often  dodged,  and  more  than  once  have — withdrawn 
rapidly.  On  this  occasion,  Tom  and  I  thought  that  retreat  was 
the  wisest  course.  In  a  moment  we  had  disappeared  in  the 
woods,  followed  by  pistol  shots  and  some  of  the  enemy. 

They  did  not  pursue  us  far.  The  Federal  cavalry  did  not  like 
the  Virginia  woods. 

In  ten  minutes  their  shots  were  no  longer  heard;  their  shouts 
died  away;  and  returning  on  our  steps,  we  came  once  more  in 
sight  of  Disaways  and  reconnoitred. 

The  enemy  were  not  visible,  and  riding  up,  we  dismounted 
and  entered.* 

*  "  I  have  taken  up  too  mucli  space  with  this  trifle,"  said  Colonel  Surry  when  I 
read  this,  ''but  that  hot  tea  was  a  real  cup  of  tea!  I  was  really  burned  nearly  to 
death,  in  attempting  to  swallow  it!  The  dialogue  with  my  friend,  the  cavalryman, 
was  real ;  and  it  is  just  these  trifles  which  cling  to  the  memory,  obscuring  tha 
'  greater  events  !'  " 


450  MOHUN. 


XIV. 

MR.   ALIBI. 

The  enemy  had  eaten  up  my  supper !  A  glance  at  the  table 
told  the  whole  tragic  history; — but  the  unnerved  family  were 
scarce  in  a  condition  to  think  of  my  misfortune. 

The  enemy  had  staid  for  a  few  moments  only,  but  in  that  time 
the  family  had  gathered  important  information  of  their  intentions. 
They  were  going  to  surprise  and  attack  General  Fitz  Lee  that 
night ;  and  had  not  so  much  as  halted,  as  they  passed  the  house, 
to  gain  a  by-road  beyond.  They  were  commanded,  the  men  said, 
by  a  General  Darke,  and  guided  by  a  man  living  near  Monk's 
j^eck,  whose  name  was  Alibi. 

This  information  of  the  enemy's  design  banished  all  other 
thoughts  from  my  mind  and  Tom's.  We  ran  to  our  horses — and 
I  think  I  heard  something  like  a  kiss,  in  the  shadow  of  the  porch, 
as  Tom  and  Katy  parted. 

"We  galloped  into  the  woods,  following  a  course  parallel  to  that 
taken  by  the  enemy's  cavalry,  and  keeping  as  close  to  it  as  was 
safe. 

"  A  sudden  parting  between  yourself  and  Katy,  Tom !"  I  said, 
as  we  galloped  on.  "A  touching  spectacle!  "When  will  you  be 
married?" 

"  In  a  ireek  or  two — to  answer  seriously,  old  fellow,"  responded 
Tom. 

"Is  it  possible  f 

"  Even  so,  my  boy." 

"  Here,  at  Disaways?" 

"No,  in  Eiclimond.  Katy's  family  are  refugees  there,  now; 
and  I  was  going  to  escort  her  to  Petersburg  to-morrow,  but  for 
these  rascals — and  I  will  do  it,  vet." 

"Good!  I  hope  the  way  will  be  clear  then!  Let  us  get  on. 
There  is  no  time  to  lose  in  order  to  warn  General  Fitz!" 

AYe  pushed  on,  following  bridle-paths,  and  making  toward  Din- 
widdle Court-House.    Half  an  hour  thus  passed,  and  we  were  near 


MR.    ALIBI.  451 

the  Roney's  Bridge  road,  when,  suddenly,  the  whole  forest  on 
our  right  blazed  with  shots.  Loud  shouts  aftcorapanied  the  firing. 
The  woods  crackled  as  horsemen  rushed  through  them.  An  ob- 
stinate fight  was  going  on  in  the  darkness,  between  the  Federal 
and  Confederate  cavalry. 

Plainly,  the  Confederates  had  not  been  surprised,  and  the  dash 
and  vim  with  which  they  met  the  Federal  onset,  seemed  to  dis- 
hearten their  enemies.  For  fifteen  minutes  the  combat  continued 
with  great  fury,  amid  the  pines ;  the  air  was  filled  with  quick 
spirts  of  flame,  with  the  clash  of  sabres,  with  loud  cheers  and 
cries;  then  the  wave  of  Federal  horsemen  surged  back  toward 
the  Rowanty ;  the  Confederates  pressed  them,  with  cheer ;  and 
the  aflfair  terminated  in  a  headlong  pursuit. 

Tom  and  myself  had  gotten  into  the  melee  early  in  the  action, 
and  my  feather  had  been  cut  out  of  my  hat  by  a  sabre  stroke 
which  a  big  blue  worthy  aimed  at  me.  This  was  my  only  acci- 
dent, however.  In  fifteen  minutes  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
our  friends  run. 

I  followed  with  the  rest,  for  about  a  mile.  Then  I  drew  rein, 
and  turned  back — my  horse  was  completely  exhausted.  I  slowly 
returned  toward  Dinwiddle  Courfc-House  ;  hesitated  for  a  moment 
whether  I  would  lodge  at  the  tavern ;  shook  my  head  in  a  man- 
ner not  complimentary  to  the  hostelry ;  and  set  out  to  spend  the 
night  at  "  Five  Forks." 

I  did  not  know,  until  some  days  afterward,  that  a  serious  acci- 
dent had  happened  to  the  worthy  Mr.  Alibi,  guide  and  friend  of 
General  Darke. 

He  had  been  struck  by  a  bullet  in  the  fight ;  had  flapped  his 
wings  ;  cackled  ;  tumbled  from  his  horse  ;  and  expired. 

Nighthawk's  visit  thus  went  for  nothing. 

Mr.  Alibi  was  dead. 


452  MOHUiT. 

•      XY. 

FROM  FIVE  FOPwKS   TO   PETERSBURG. 

I  SHALL  not  dwell  upon  the  evening  and  night  spent  at  "Five 
Forks" — upon  whose  threshold  I  was  met  and  cordially  greeted 
by  the  gray-haired  Judge  Conway. 

In  the  great  drawing-room  I  found  the  young  ladies,  who  hast- 
ened to  procure  me  supper;  and  I  still  remember  that  waiter  of 
every  species  of  edibles, — that  smiling  landscape  above  which  rose 
the  spire-like  neck  of  a  decanter !  These  incessant  "  bills  of  fare  " 
will,  I  fenr,  revolt  some  readers!  But  these  are  my  memoirs; 
and  memoirs  mean  recollections.  I  have  forgotten  a  dozen  bat- 
tles, but  still  remember  that  decanter-phenomenon  in  March, 
1865. 

I  spent  the  evening  in  cordial  converse  with  the  excellent  Judge 
Conway  and  his  daughters,  and  on  the  next  morning  set  out  on 
my  return  to  Petersburg.  Mohun  had  not  been  visible.  At  the 
first  sound  of  the  firing,  he  had  mounted  his  horse  and  departed 
at  a  gallop. 

So  nmch  for  my  visit  to  Five  Forks.  I  pass  thus  rapidly  over 
it,  with  real  regret — lamenting  the  want  of  space  which  compels 
me  to  do  so. 

Do  you  love  the  queenly  rose,  and  the  modest  lily  of  the  valley, 
reader?  I  could  have  shown  you  those  flowers,  in  Georgia 
and  Virginia  Conway.  They  were  exquisitely  cordial  and  high- 
bred— as  was  their  gray-haired  father.  They  spoke,  and  moved, 
and  looked,  as  only  the  high-bred  can.  Pardon  that  obso- 
lete word,  "high-bred,"  so  insulting  in  the  present  epoch!  I 
am  only  jesting  when  I  seem  to  intimate  that  I  considered  the 
stately  old  judge  better  than  the  black  servant  who  waited  upon 
me  at  supper! 

Of  Mohun  and  Will  Davenant,  I  had  said  nothing,  in  convers- 
ing with  the  smiling  young  ladies.  But  I  think  Miss  Georgia, 
stately  and  imposing  as  she  was,  looked  at  rae  with  a  peculiar 
smile,  which  said,  "You  are  his  friend,  and  cannot  be  a  mere  or- 
dinary acquaintance  to  me!'''' 


FIVE    FORKS    TO    PETERSBURG.         453 

And  here  I  onglit  to  inform  the  reader,  that  since  that  first 
visit  of  mine  to  Five  Forks,  affairs  had  marched  with  the  young 
lady  and  her  friend.  Mohun  and  Miss  Georgia  were  about  to  be 
married,  and  I  was  to  be  the  first  groomsman.  The  woman- 
hating  Benedict  of  the  banks  of  the  Rappahannock  had  completely 
succumbed,  and  the  satirical  Beatrice  had  also  lost  all  her  wit. 
It  died  away  in  sighs,  and  gave  place  to  reveries — those  reveries 
which  come  to  maidens  when  they  are  about  to  embark  on  the 
untried  seas  of  matrimony. 

But  I  linger  at  Five  Forks  when  great  events  are  on  the  march. 
Bidding  my  hospitable  host  and  his  charming  daughters  good 
morning,  I  mounted  my  horse  and  set  out  over  the  White  Oak 
road  toward  Petersburg.  As  I  approached  the  Rowanty,  I  saw 
that  the  new  defenses  erected  by  Lee,  were  continuous  and  pow- 
erful. Long  tiers  of  breastworks,  and  redoubts  crowning  every 
eminence,  showed  very  plainly  the  great  importance  which  Lee 
attached  to  bedding  the  position. 

In  fact,  this  was  the  key  to  the  Southside  road.  Here  was  to 
take  place  the  last  great  struggle. 

I  rode  on,  in  deep  thought,  but  soon  my  reverie  was  banished. 
Just  as  I  reached  the  hill  above  Burgess's,  who  should  I  see  com- 
ing from  the  direction  of  the  Court-House — but  Tom  Herbert  and 
Katy  Dare ! 

Katy  Dare,  on  a  little  pony,  with  a  riding  skirt  reaching  nearly 
to  the  ground  ! — with  her  trim  little  figure  clearly  outlined  by 
the  fabric — with  a  jaunty  little  riding  hat  balanced  lightly 
upon  her  ringlets — with  her  cheeks  full  of  roses,  her  lips  full  of 
smiles,  her  eyes  dancing  like  two  blue  waves,  which  the  wind 
agitates ! 

Don't  find  fault  with  her,  Mrs.  Grundy,  for  having  Tom  only  as 
an  escort.  Those  were  stern  and  troubled  times;  our  poor  girls 
"were  compelled  often  to  banish  ceremony.  Katy  had  only  this 
means  to  get  back  to  her  family,  and  went  with  Tom  as  with  her 
brother. 

She  held  out  bosth  hands  to  me,  her  eyes  dancing.  Three  years 
have  passed  since  then,  but  if  I  were  a  painter,  I  could  make  her 
portrait,  reproducing  every  detail !  ^STothiug  has  escaped  my 
memory;  I  stiU  hear  her  voice;  the  sun  of  1868,  not  of  1865, 


454  MOHUN. 

seems  to  shine  on  the  rosy  cheeks   framed  by  masses  of  golden 
ringlets ! 

I  would  like  to  record  our  talk  as  we  rode  on  toward  Peters- 
burg— describe  that  ride — a  charming  episode,  flashing  like  a 
gleam  of  sunlight,  amid  the  dark  days,  when  the  black  clouds  had 
covered  the  whole  landscape.  In  this  volume  there  is  so  much 
gloom!  Suffering  and  death  have  met  us  so  often!  Can  yon 
wonder,  my  dear  reader,  that  the  historian  of  such  an  epoch  longs 
to  escape,  when  he  can,  from  the  gloom  of  the  traged}',  and  paint 
those  scenes  of  comedy  which  occasionally  broke  the  monoto- 
nous drama?  To  write  this  book  is  not  agreeable  to  me.  I  wear 
out  a  part  of  my  life  in  composing  it.  To  sum  up,  in  cold  his^toric 
generalities  that  great  epoch  would  belittle — but  to  enter  again 
into  the  hot  atmosphere;  to  live  once  more  that  life  of  the  past ; 
to  feel  the  gloom,  the  suspense,  the  despair  of  1865  again — be- 
lieve me,  that  is  no  trifle  !  It  wears  away  the  nerves,  and  tears 
tlie  heart.  The  cheek  becomes  pale  as  the  MS.  grows!  The 
sunshine  is  yonder,  but  you  do  not  see  it.  The  past  banishes 
the  present.  xVcross  the  tranquil  landscape  of  March,  18G8,  jars 
the  cannon,  and  rushes  the  storm  wind  of  March,  1865  ! 

The  cloud  was  black  above,  therefore,  but  Katy  Dare  made  the 
world  bright  with  her  own  sunshine,  that  day.  All  the  way  to 
Petersburg,  she  ran  on  in  the  most  charming  prattle.  The  wind- 
ing Boydtown  road,  like  the  banks  of  the  lower  Kowanty,  was 
made  vocal  with  her  songs — the  "  Bird  of  Beauty"  and  the  whole 
repertoire.  Nor  was  Tom  Herbert  backward  in  encouraging  his 
companion's  mirth.  Tom  was  the  soul  of  joy.  He  sang  '•  Katy  ! 
Katy !  don't  marry  any  other!"  with  an  unction  which  spoke  in  his 
quick  color,  and  "  melting  glances"  as  in  the  tones  of  his  laugh- 
ing voice.  Riding  along  the  famous  highway,  upon  whicli  only  a 
solitary  cavalryman  or  a  wagon  occasionally  appeared,  the  little 
maiden  and  her  lover  made  tlie  pine-woods  ring  with  their  songs, 
their  jests,  and  their  laughter! 

It  is  good  to  be  young  and  to  love.  Is  th  jre  any  thing  more 
charming?  For  my  part  I  think  that  the  curly  head  holds  the 
most  wisdom  !  Tell  me  which  was  the  happier — the  gray-haired 
general  yonder,  oppressed  by  care,  or  the  laughing  youth  and 
maiden?     It  is   true  there  is  something  nobler,  however,  than 


FIVE    FORKS    TO    PETERSBURG.        455 

youth,  and  joj,  and  love.  It  is  to  know  that  you  are  doing  your 
duty — to  bear  up,  like  Atlas,  a  whole  world  upon  your  shoulders 
— to  feel  that,  if  you  fall,  the  whole  world  will  shake — and  that 
history  will  place  your  name  beside  that  of  Washington ! 

As  the  sun  began  to  decline,  we  rode  into  Petersburg,  and 
bidding  Katy  and  Tom  adieu,  I  returned  to  my  Cedars. 

I  had  taken  my  last  ride  in  the  "low  grounds"  of  the  county 
of  Dinwiddie;  I  was  never  more  to  see  Disaways,  unless  some- 
thing carries  me  thither  in  the  future.  To  those  hours  spent  in 
the  old  mansion,  and  with  my  comrades,  near  it,  I  look  back 
now  with  delight.  Days  and  nights  on  the  Rowanty !  how  you 
come  back  to  me  in  dreams !  Happy  hours  at  Disaways,  with 
the  cavalry,  with  the  horse  artillery!  you  live  still  in  my  memory, 
and  you  will  live  there  always !  Katy  Dare  runs  to  greet  me 
again  as  in  the  past — again  her  blue  eyes  dance,  and  the  happy 
winds  are  blowing  her  bright  curls  into  ripples  !  She  smiles  upon 
me  still — as  in  that  "  winter  of  discontent."  Her  cheerful 
voice  again  sounds.  Her  small  hands  are  held  out  to  me.  All 
things  go — nothing  lingers — but  those  days  on  the  Rowanty,  amid 
the  sunset  gilded  pines,  come  back  with  all  their  tints,  and  are 
fadeless  in  my  memory. 

Going  back  thus  in  thought,  to  that  winter  of  1864,  I  recall 
the  friendly  faces  of  Katy,  and  all  my  old  comrades — I  liear  their 
laughter  again,  touch  their  brave  hands  once  more,  and  salute 
them,  wishing  them  long  life  and  happiness. 

"Farewell!"  I  murmur,  "Rowanty,  and  Sappony,  and  Disa- 
ways !  Bonne  fortune  !  old  companions,  little  maiden,  and  kind 
friends  all !  It  has  not  been  time  lost  to  gather  together  my  recol- 
lections— to  live  again  in  the  past, — to  catch  the  aroma  of  those 
hours  when  kindness  smoothed  the  front  of  war!  We  no  longer 
wear  the  gray — my  mustache  only  shows  it  now  !  but,  thank 
heaven!  many  things  in  memory  survive.  I  think  of  these — 
of  the  old  comrades,  the  old  times.  Health  and  happiness  attend 
you  on  your  way  through  life,  comrades !  May  the  silver  spare 
the  gold  of  your  clustering  ringlets,  Katy !  Joy  and  gladness 
follow  your  steps !  all  friendly  stars  shine  on  you !  "Wherever 
you  are,  old  friends,  may  a  kind  heaven  send  you  its  blessing!" 


456  MOHUN. 


XVI. 

LEE'S   LAST    GREAT   BLOW. 

I  REACHED  Petersburg  on  the  evening  of  March  24,  1865. 

The  ride  was  a  gay  comedy — but  a  tragedy  was  about  to  follow 
it.  On  the  very  next  morning,  in  the  gray  March  dawn,  Lee  was 
going  to  strike  his  last  great  blow  at  Grant.  A  column  under 
Gordon,  that  brave  of  braves,  was  going  to  be  hurled  headlong 
against  Hare's  Hill,  the  enemy's  centre,  just  below  Petersburg. 

That  design  was  evidently  the  result  of  supreme  audacity,  or  of 
despair.  In  either  case  it  indicated  the  terrible  character  of  the 
crisis.  There  could  be  no  two  opinions  upon  that  point.  Lee 
aimed  at  nothing  less  than  to  cut  General  Grant's  army  in  two — 
to  root  himself  doggedly  in  the  very  centre  of  his  enemies,  and  to 
force  General  Grant  to  draw  back  the  entire  left  wing  of  his  array, 
or  run  the  risk,  by  holding  his  position,  to  have  it  destroyed. 

Was  Lee's  motive  to  open  the  way  for  his  retreat  over  the 
Boydton  road  toward  Danville?  I  know  not.  Military  critics 
say  so,  and  it  is  certain  that,  a  month  before,  he  had  endeavored 
to  retreat.  The  government  had  checked  him,  then,  but  now, 
that  step  was  plainly  the  only  one  left.  He  might  effect  his  re- 
treat by  forcing  Grant  to  draw  in  his  left  wing  for  the  support 
of  his  centre.  Lee  could  then  retire  from  Hare's  Hill ;  make  a 
rapid  march  westward  ;  push  for  llTorth  Carolina;  and  joining 
Lis  forces  with  those  of  Johnston,  continue  the  war  in  the  Gulf 
States,  falling  back  if  necessary  to  Texas. 

I  have  always  thought  that»this  was  his  design,  but  I  was  much 
too  obscure  a  per.sonage  to  gain  any  personal  knowledge  of  his  plans. 
It  is  certain  that  he  designed  one  of  two  things — either  to  open 
the  path  for  his  retreat,  or  to  relieve  his  right  wing  toward  Five 
Forks,  which  was  bending  under  the  immense  pressure  upon  it. 
Either  motive  was  that  of  a  good  soldier — and  what  seemed  wild 
audacity  was  sound  common  sense. 

For  the  rest,  there  was  little  else  to  do.  Some  change  in  the 
aspect  of  things  was  vitally  necessary.     Grant  had  been  re-en- 


LEE'S    LAST    GREAT    BLOW.  457 

forced  by  a  large  portion  of  Sherman's  array,  and  the  Federal 
troops  in  front  of  Lee  now  numbered  about  one  hundred  and  fiftj' 
thousand.  As  Lee's  force,  all  told,  on  his  entire  line,  was  onlj  about 
forty  thousand,  the  rupture  of  the  far- stretching  defences,  at  some 
point,  seemed  only  a  question  of  time.  And  scarcely  that.  Rather, 
a  question  of  the  moment  selected  by  Grant  for  his  great  blow. 

At  the  end  of  March  the  hour  of  decisive  struggle  was  plainly 
at  hand.  The  wind  had  dried  the  roads  ;  artillery  could  move ; 
the  Federal  left  was  nearly  in  sight  of  the  Southside  road  ;  one 
spring,  and  General  Grant  could  lay  hold  on  that  great  war-artery, 
and  then  nothing  would  be  left  to  Lee  but  retreat  or  surrender. 

Such  was  the  condition  of  things  at  Petersburg,  in  these  last 
days  of  March.  Grant  was  ready  with  his  one  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  infantry  to  strike  Lee's  forty  thousand.  Sheridan  was 
ready  with  his  twelve  thousand  superbly  mounted  cavalry,  to 
hurl  himself  against  the  two  thousand  half-armed  horsemen,  on 
starved  and  broken-down  animals,  under  command  of  General 
Fitz  Lee.  A  child  could  have  told  the  result.  The  idea  of  re- 
sistance, with  any  hope,  in  the  defences,  any  longer,  was  a  chimera. 
Lee  was  a  great  soldier — history  contains  few  greater.  The  army 
of  Northern  Virginia  was  brave — the  annals  of  the  M'orld  show 
none  braver.  But  there  was  one  thing  which  neither  great  general- 
ship, or  supreme  courage  could  effect.  Opposed  by  one  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  well-fed  troops,  with  every  munition  of  war, 
forty  thousand  starving  men,  defending  a  line  of  forty  miles,  must 
in  the  end  meet  capture  or  destruction. 

The  country  did  not  see  it,  but  General  Lee  did.  The  civilians 
— the  brave  ones — had  a  superstitious  confidence  in  the  great 
commander  and  his  old  army.  It  had  repulsed  the  enemy  so  un- 
interruptedly, that  the  unskilled  people  believed  it  invincible. 
Lee  had  foiled  Grant  so  regularly  that  he  was  looked  upon  as  the 
very  God  of  Victory.  Defeat  could  not  come  to  hini.  Glory 
would  ever  follow  his  steps.  On  the  banners  of  the  old  army  of 
Northern  Virginia,  led  by  Lee,  the  eagles  of  victory  would  still 
perch,  screaming  defiance,  and  untamed  to  the  end. 

While  the  civilians  were  saying  this,  Lee  was  preparing  to  re- 
treat. Nothing  blinded  that  clear  vision — the  eyes  of  the  great 
chief  pierced  every  mist.     He  saw  the  blow  coming — the  shadow 


458  MOHUIn". 

of  the  Grant  hammer  as  the  weapon  wa«  lifted,  ran  before— on 
the  25th  of  March  Lee's  rapier  made  its  hist  lunge.  But  when  his 
adversary  recoiled  to  avoid  it,  it  was  Lee  who  w:as  going  to  retreat. 

That  lunge  was  sadden  and  terrible — if  it  did  not  accomplish 
its  object.  In  the  dark  March  morning,  Gordon,  *'Tiie  Bayard 
of  the  army,"  advanced  with  three  thousand  men  across  tlie  abatis 
in  front  of  Hare's  Hill. 

What  followed  was  a  fierce  tragedy,  as  brief  and  deadly  as  the 
fall  of  a  thunder-bolt. 

Gordon  rushed  at  tlie  head  of  his  column  over  the  space  which 
separated  the  lines;  stormed  the  Federal  defences  at  the  point 
of  the  bayonet ;  seized  on  Fort  Steadman,  a  powerful  work,  and 
the  batteries  surrounding  it,  then  as  the  light  broadened  in  the 
East,  he  looked  back  for  re-enforcements.  None  came — he  was 
holdim?  the  centre  of  Grant's  armv  with  three  thousand  men. 
"What  he  had  won  was  by  sheer  audacity — the  enemy  had  been 
surprised,  and  seemed  laboring  under  a  species  of  stupor  ;  if  not 
supported,  and  supported  at  once,  he  was  gone ! 

An  hour  afterward,  Gordon  was  returning,  shattered  and  bleed- 
ing at  every  pore.  The  enemy  had  suddenly  come  to  their  senses 
after  the  stunning  blow.  From  the  forts  and  redoubts  crowning 
every  surrounding  hill  issued  the  thunder.  Cannon  glared,  shell 
crashed,  musketry  rolled  in  long  fusillade,  on  three  sides  of  the 
devoted  Confederates.  Huddled  in  the  trenches  they  were  torn 
to  pieces  by  a  tempest  of  shell  and  bullets. 

As  the  light  broadened,  the  hills  swarmed  with  blue  masses 
hastening  toward  the  scene  of  the  combat,  to  punish  the  daring 
assailants.  Grant's  army  was  closing  in  around  the  little  band 
of  Gordon.  No  help  came  to  them,  they  were  being  butchered  ; 
to  stay  longer  there  was  mere  suicide,  and  the  few  who  could  do 
so,  retreated  to  the  Confederate  lines. 

They  were  few  indeed.  Of  the  splendid  assaulting  column,  led 
by  Gordon,  more  than  two  thousand  were  killed  or  captured.  He 
had  split  the  stubborn  trunk,  but  it  was  the  trunk  which  now 
held  the  wedge  in  its  obdurate  jaws. 

Gordon  retreated  with  his  bleeding  handful — it  was  the  second 
or  third  time  that  this  king  of  battle  had  nearly  accom[-lished 
impossibilities  by  the  magic  of  his  genius. 


WRESTLE    FOPw    WHITE    OAK    ROAD.    459 

He  could  do  onlj  what  was  possible.  To  star  yonder  was  im- 
possible. And  the  scarred  veteran  of  thirty-three  years,  came 
back  pale  and  in  despair. 

Lee  had  struck  his  last  great  blow,  and  it  had  failed. 


XVII. 

THE    WRESTLE    FOR    THE    WHITE    OAK    ROAD. 

It  is  unsafe  to  wound  the  wild-boar,  unless  the  wound  be 
mortal.  To  change  the  figure,  Grant  had  parried  the  almost 
mortal  thrust  of  Lee:  and  now,  with  the  famous  hammer  lifted 
and  whirled  aloft,  aimed  the  final  and  decisive  blow  at  the  crest 
of  his  great  adversary. 

On  Wednesday,  March  29th,  the  Federal  commander  com- 
menced the  general  movement,  which  had  for  its  object  the  de- 
struction of  Lee's  right  wing,  and  the  occupation  of  the  Southside 
road. 

Before  dawn,  the  masses  of  blue  infantry  began  to  move  west- 
ward across  the  Rowanty,  laying  down  bridges  over  the  water- 
courses, as  the  columns  passed  on;  and  on  the  night  of  the  same 
day,  the  corps  of  Humphreys  and  Warren  were  near  Dinwiddle 
Court-House  with  their  extreme  right  guarded,  by  Sheridan's 
cavalry. 

Such  was  the  work  of  Wednesday.  The  great  moment  had 
evidently  arrived.  Lee  penetrated  at  a  single  glance  the  whole 
design  of  his  adversary;  collected  about  fifteen  thousand  men, 
nearly  half  his  army ;  and  leaving  Longstreet  north  of  the  James, 
and  only  a  skirmish  line  around  Petersburg,  marched  westward, 
beyond  the  Rowanty,  to  meet  the  enemy  on  the  White  Oak  road. 

On  the  morning  of  tlie  30th,  all  was  ready  for  General  Grant's 
great  blow.  But  the  elements  were  hostile  to  the  Federal  side. 
In  the  night,  a  heavy  rain  had  fallen.  All  day  on  the  30th,  it 
continued  to  rain,  and  military  movements  were  impossible.    The 


460  MOHUN. 

two  great  opponents  looked  at  each  other, — lines  drawn  up  for 
the  decisive  struggle. 

On  the  31st,  Grant  was  about  to  open  the  attack  on  Lee,  when 
that  commander  saved  him  the  trouble.  The  Virginian  seemed 
resolved  to  die  in  harness,  and  advancing. 

The  corps  of  Humphreys  and  Warren  had  advanced  from  Din- 
widdie  Court-House  toward  the  Southside  road,  and  Warren  was 
in  sight  of  the  White  Oak  road,  when,  suddenly,  Lee  hurled  a 
column  against  him,  and  drove  liim  back.  The  Confederates  fol- 
lowed with  wild  cheers,  endeavoring  to  turn  the  enemy's  left,  and 
tinish  them.  But  the  attempt  was  in  vain.  Federal  re-enforcements 
arrived.  Lee  found  his  own  flank  exposed,  and  fell  back  doggedly 
to  the  White  Oak  road  again,  having  given  the  enemy  a  great 
scare,  but  effecting  nothing. 

As  he  retired,  intelligence  reached  him  that  Sheridan's  cavalry 
were  advancing  upon  Five  Forks.  That  position  was  the  key  of 
the  whole  surrounding  country.  If  Sheridan  seized  and  occupied 
this  great  carrefoui\  Lee's  right  was  turned. 

A  column  was  sent  without  delay,  and  reached  the  spot  to  find 
>5heridan  in  possession  of  the  place.  Short  work  was  made  of 
him.  Falling  upon  the  Federal  cavalry,  Pickett  and  Fitzhugh 
Lee  drove  them  back  upon  Dinwiddie — pushed  rapidly  after  them 
— and,  but  for  the  terrible  swamp,  into  which  the  late  rains  had 
converted  the  low  grounds,  would  have  followed  them  to  the  Court- 
House,  and  gotten  in  rear  of  the  left  wing  of  the  Federal  army. 

That  was  the  turning  point.  If  Pickett  and  Fitz  Lee  had 
reached  Dinwiddie  court-house,  and  attacked  in  the  enemy's  rear, 
while  Lee  assailed  them  in  front,  it  is  diflicult  to  believe  that  the 
battle  would  not  have  resulted  in  a  Confederate  victory. 

Such  was  the  alarm  of  General  Grant  at  the  new  aspect  of 
aftairs,  that  late  at  night  he  withdrew  Warren,  and  ordered  him 
to  hurry  toward  Dinwiddie  Court-House,  to  succor  Sheridan  in 
his  hour  of  need.  Then  if  our  flanking  column  could  have  pushed 
on — if  Lee  had  then  advanced — but  all  this  is  idle,  reader.  Provi- 
dence had  decreed  otherwise.  The  flanking  column  could  not 
advance — at  ten  at  night  it  was  withdrawn  by  Lee — midnight 
found  the  two  armies  resting  on  their  arms,  awaiting  the  morning 
of  the  first  of  April. 


THE    BEIDEGROOM.  461 


XVIII. 

THE    BRIDEGEOOM. 

I  HATE  endeavored  to  present  a  rapid,  but  accnrate  summary 
of  the  great  events  which  took  place  on  the  lines  around  Peters- 
burg, from  the  morning  of  the  29th  of  March,  when  General 
Grant  began  his  general  movement,  to  the  night  of  the  31st, 
when  he  confronted  Lee  on  the  White  Oak  road,  readv,  after  a 
dav  of  incessant  combat,  which  had  decided  little,  to  renew  the 
struggle  on  the  next  morning  for  the  possession  of  the  Southside 
road. 

This  summary  has  been,  of  necessity,  a  brief  and  general  one. 
For  this  volume  has  for  its  object,  rather  to  narrate  the  fortunes 
of  a  set  of  individuals,  than  to  record  the  history  of  an  epoch, 
crowded  with  tragic  scenes.  I  cannot  here  paint  the  great 
picture.  The  canvass  and  the  time  are  both  wanting.  The  rapid 
sketch  which  I  have  given  will  present  a  suflBcient  outline.  I 
return,  now,  to  those  personages  whose  lives  I  have  tried  to  nar- 
rate, and  who  were  destined  to  reach  the  catastrophe  in  their 
private  annals  at  the  moment  when  the  Confederacy  reached  its 
own. 

I  shall,  therefore,  beg  the  reader  to  leave  the  Confederate  forces 
at  bav  on  the  White  Oak  road — the  flanking  column  under  Pick- 
ett  and  Johnson  falling  back  on  Fiv^e  Forks — and  accompany  me' 
to  the  house  of  the  same  name,  within  a  mile  of  the  famous  carre- 
four^  where,  on  this  night  of  the  31st  of  March,  some  singular 
scenes  are  to  be  enacted. 

It  was  the  night  fixed  for  Mohun's  marriage.  I  had  been  re- 
quested to  act  as  his  first  groomsman ;  and,  chancing  to  encounter 
him  during  the  day,  he  had  informed  me  that  he  adhered  to  his 
design  of  being  married  in  spite  of  every  thing. 

When  night  came  at  last,  on  this  day  of  battles,  I  was  wearied 
out  with  the  incessant  riding  on  staff  duty ;  but  I  remembered 
my  promise;  again  mounted  my  horse;  and  set  out  for  "Five 
Forks,"  where,  in  any  event,  I  was  sure  of  a  warm  welcome. 


462  MO  HUN. 

Pushing  on  over  the  White  Oak  road,  I  turned  southward  at 
Five  Forks,  and  riding  on  toward  Judge  Conway's,  Iiad  just 
reached  the  road  coming  in  from  Dinwiddie  Court-IIouse,  when  I 
heard  a  cavalier  approaching  from  that  quarter,  at  a  rapid  gallop. 

He  was  darting  by,  toward  Five  Forks,  when  by  the  starlight  I 
recognized  Mohnn. 

''Halt!"  I  shouted. 

He  knew  my  voice,  and  drew  rein  with  an  exclamation  of 
pleasure. 

"  Thanks,  my  dear  old  friend,"  he  said,  grasping  my  hand.  "  I 
knew  you  would  not  fail  me." 

"Your  wedding  will  take  place,  Mohun?" 

"Yes,  battle  or  no  battle." 

"You  are  right.  Life  is  uncertain.  You  will  hear  cannon  in- 
stead of  marriage-bells  probably,  at  your  nuptials — but  that  will 
be  inspiring.     What  is  the  news  from  the  Court-House?" 

"  Our  infantry  is  falling  back." 

"The  condition  of  the  roads  stopped  them?" 

"Yes,  it  was  impossible  to  get  on  ;  and  they  have  been  recalled 
by  order  of  General  Lee.  Listen !  There  is  the  column  coming 
— they  are  falling  back  to  Five  Forks,  a  mile  north  of  Judge  Con- 
way's." 

In  fact,  as  we  rode  on  now,  I  heard  the  mufSed  tramp  of  a 
column,  and  the  rattle  of  artillery  chains  in  the  woods. 

"The  enemy  will  follow,  I  suppose?" 

"Not  before  morning,  I  hope." 

I  smiled. 

"Meanwhile  you  are  making  good  use  of  the  time  to  get  mar- 
ried.    What  will  you  do  with  Miss  Georgia?" 

"  You  mean  Mrs.  Mohun,  Surry!"  he  said,  smiling. 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  she  will  be  sent  off — her  father  will  take  the  whole 
family  to  Petersburg  in  the  morning,  to  avoid  the  battle  which 
will  probably  take  place  in  this  vicinity  to-morrow." 

"  You  are  right.  I  predict  a  thundering  fight  here,  in  the 
morning." 

"Which  I  hope  I  shall  not  balk  in,  my  dear  Surry,"  said  Mo- 
hun, smiling. 


THE    BRIDEGROOM  463 

"Is  there  any  danger  of  tliat?" 

"I  really  don't  know.  It  is  not  good  for  a  soldier  to  be  too 
happy.  It  makes  him  shrink  from  bullets,  and  raises  visions  of  a 
young  widow,  in  mourning,  bending  over  a  tomb." 

'•  Pshaw  !  stop  that  folly !"  I  said.  "  Is  it  possible  that  a  stout- 
hearted cavalier  like  General  Mohun  can  indulge  in  such  appre- 
hensions— and  at  a  moment  as  happy  as  this?" 

I  saw  him  smile  sadly,  in  the  dim  starlight. 

"I  am  much  changed,"  he  said,  gently;  "  I  no  longer  risk  my 
.life  recklessly — trying  to  throw  it  away.  Once,  as  you  know, 
Snrry,  I  was  a  poor  outcast,  and  my  conscience  was  burdened 
■with  a  terrible  crime.  Life  was  little  to  me,  then,  and  I  would 
not  have  cared  if  a  bullet  cut  it  short.  I  was  reckless,  desperate, 
and  had  no  hope.  Kow,  I  have  hope — and  a  great  deal  more 
than  all — I  have  happiness.  My  hands  are  not  stained  with  the 
blood  of  that  man  and  woman — I  have  the  love  of  a  pure  girl  who 
is  going  to  give  her  life  to  me — and  I  have  prayed  to  God  for 
pardon,  and  been  pardoned,  I  feel — else  that  All-merciful  Being 
would  not  make  my  poor  life  bright  again!  But  let  me  stop  this 
talk!  A  strange  conversation  for  a  wedding  night!  Let  me  say 
again,  however,  my  dear  Surry,  that  I  have  no  enmities  now.  I 
no  longer  hate  that  man^  and  would  not  harm  that  woman  for 
aught  on  earth.  Let  them  go — they  are  indifferent  to  me.  I  ap- 
peal to  God  to  witness  the  purity  of  my  sentiments,  and  the  sin- 
cerity with  which  I  have  prayed,  'Forgive  us  our  trespasses,  as 
we  forgive  those  who  have  trespassed  against  us!  '" 

I  reached  out  my  hand  in  the  darkness,  and  pressed  that  of  the 
speaker. 

"  You  are  right,  Mohun — there  is  something  greater,  more  no- 
ble, than  vengeance — it  is  forgiveness.  More  than  ever,  I  can  say 
now  of  you,  what  I  said  after  hearing  your  history  that  night." 

"  What  was  that,  old  friend  ?" 

"  That  you  were  no  longer  the  bitter  misanthrope,  hating  your 

species,  and  snarling  at  all  things — no  longer  the  gay  cavalier 

rushing  to  battle  as  a  pastime — that  you  were  altered,  entirely 

changed,  rather — that  your  character  was  elevated  and  purified — 

and  that  now,  you  were  a  patriotic  soldier,  fit  to  live  or  die  with 

Lee!" 

20 


4:64:  MOHUN. 

*'  Would  that  I  were!"  he  murmured,  letting  his  head  fall  upon 
his  breast. 

''That  is  much  to  say  of  any  man  ;  but  I  will  add  more.  You 
are  worthy  of  her — the  blossom  of  Five  Forks!" 

As  I  uttered  these  words,  we  reached  the  gate. 

A  moment  afterward  we  had  entered  the  grounds,  tetliered  our 
horses,  and  were  hastening  to  the  house. 


XIX. 

THE    CEREMONY. 


On  the  threshold  we  were  met  by  Judge  Conway,  with  a  bow 
and  a  smile. 

He  pressed  our  hands  cordially,  but  with  a  covert  sadness,  which 
I  suppose  comes  to  the  heart  of  every  father  who  is  about  to  part 
with  a  beloved  daughter — to  give  up  his  place  as  it  were  to  an- 
other— and  then  we  entered  the  great  drawing-room  where  a 
gentleman  in  a  white  cravat  and  black  coat  awaited  us.  No  other 
persons  were  visible. 

The  great  apartment  was  a  charming  spectacle,  with  its  bril- 
liant lights  and  blazing  fire.  The  frescoed  walls  danced  in  light 
shadows ;  the  long  curtains  were  drawn  down,  completely  exclud- 
ing the  March  air.  Coming  in  out  of  the  night,  this  smiling  in- 
terior was  inexpressibly  home-like  and  delightful. 

As  we  entered,  the  clerical-looking  gentleman  rose,  modestly, 
and  smiled. 

"The  Reverend  Mr.  Hope,"  said  Judge  Conwtri^  presenting 
him.  And  Mr.  Hope,  with  the  same  gentle  smile  upon  his  lips, 
advanced  and  shook  hands. 

At  that  name  I  had  seen  Mohun  suddenly  start,  and  turn  pale. 
Then  his  head  rose  quickly,  his  pallor  disappeared,  and  he  said 
with  entire  calmness: 

"  Mr.  Hope  and  myself  are  old  acquaintances,  I  may  even 
say,  old  friends." 


THE    CEREMONY.  4^5 

To  these  ^vords  Mr.  Hope  made  a  gentle  and  smiling  reply  • 

and   it   ^vas   plain   that   he   was  very  far  from   connecting   the 

personage    before    him    with    the    terrible    tragedy  which    Ijad 

taken    place    at  Fonthill,   in  December,    1856.      What  was   the 

origin  of  this  ignorance?     Had  the  worthy  man,  in  his  remote 

parsonage,  simply  heard  of  the  sudden  disappearance  of  Mohun, 

the  lady,  and  Tierlrother?     Had  his  solitary  life  prevented  him 

from  hearing  the  vague  rumors  and  surmises  which  must  have 

followed  that  event?     This  was  the  simplest   explanation,  and 

I  believe  the  correct  one.    Certain  it  is  that  the  worthy  Mr.  Hope 

received  us  with  smiling  cordiality.     Doubtless  he  recalled  the 

past,  but  was  too  kind  to  spread  a  gloom  over  Mohun's  feelings 

by  alluding  to  his  loss.    In  a  few  moments  we  were  seated,  and 

Judge  Conway  explained  the  presence  of  the  parson. 

The  explanation  was  simple.  Mohun,  incessantly  engaged  on 
duty,  had  begged  Judge  Conway  to  send  a  message  to  the  parson 
of  his  parish;  the  parson  was  absent,  leaving  his  church  tem- 
porarily in  charge  of  his  brother-clergyman,  Mr.  Hope ;  thus  that 
gentleman  by  a  strange  chance,  was  about  to  officiate  at  Mohun 's 
second  marriage,  as  he  had  at  his  first. 

I  have  explained  thus,  perhaps  tediously,  an  incident  which 
struck  me  at  the  time  as  most  singular.  Are  there  fatalities  in 
this  world  ?  The  presence  of  the  Reverend  Mr.  Hope  on  that 
night  at  "Five  Forks,"  resembled  one  of  those  strange  coinci- 
dences which  make  us  believe  in  the  doctrine  of  destinv. 

Having  exchanged  compliments  with  the  clergyman,  Mohun 
and  I  were  shown  to  a  dressing-room. 

No  sooner  had  the  door  closed,  than  I  said  to  Mohun  :— » 
"  That  is  strange,  is  it  not  ?" 

"  Singular,  indeed,"  he  replied,  calmly,  "  but  I  am  not  averse 
to  this  worthy  man's  presence,  Surry.  I  have  no  concealments. 
I  have  related  my  whole  life  to  Judge  Conway  and  Georgia. 
They  both  know  the  circumstances  which  lead  to  the  conviction 
that  that  woman  was  already  married,  when  she  married  7}ie — 
that  the  proof  of  her  marriage  with  Darke  exists.  Judge  Conway 
is  a  lawyer,  and  knows  that,  in  legal  phraseology,  the  array  of  cir- 
cumstances 'excludes  every  other  hypothesis;'  thus  it  is  not  as 
an  adventurer  that  my  father's  son  enters  this  house :  all  is  known, 


4:66  MOHUN. 

and  I  do  not  shrink  from  the  eye  of  this  good  man,  "who  is  about 
to  officiate  at  my  marriage." 

"  Does  he  know  all  ?'' 

"  I  think  not.  I  had  half  resolved  to  tell  him.  But  there  is 
no  time  now.     Let  us  get  ready ;  the  hour  is  near." 

And  Mohun  looked  at  his  watch. 

''  Xine  o'clock,"  he  said.    "  The  ceremony  takes  place  at  ten." 

And  he  rapidly  made  his  toilet.  The  light  fell  on  a  superb- 
looking  cavalier.  He  was  clad  in  full  dress  uniform,  with  the 
braid  and  stars  of  a  brigadier-general.  The  erect  figure  was  clearly 
defined  by  the  coat,  buttoned  from  chin  to  waist.  Above,  rose 
the  proudly-poised  head,  with  the  lofty  brow,  the  brilliant  black 
eyes,  the  dark  imperial  and.  mustache,  beneath  which  you  saw 
the  firm  lips. 

We  descended  to  the  drawing-room,  where  Judge  Conway  and 
Mr.  Hope  awaited  us. 

Fifteen  minutes  afterward  light  steps  were  heard  upon  the 
great  staircase ;  the  old  statesman  opened  the  door,  and  Miss 
Georgia  Conway  entered  the  apartment,  leaning  upon  the  arm  of 
her  father. 

She  was  clad  in  simple  white  muslin,  with  a  string  of  pearls  in 
her  dark  hair;  and  I  have  never  seen  a  more  exquisite  beauty. 
Her  cheeks  glowed  with  fresh  roses;  a  charming  smile  just  parted 
her  lips ;  and  her  dark  eyes,  grand  and  calm,  shone  out  from  the 
snow-white  forehead,  from  which  her  black  hair  was  carried  back 
in  midnight  ripples,  ending  in  profuse  curls.  It  was  truly  a  grande 
damevf\iow\  I  gazed  at  on  this  night,  and,  with  eyes  riveted  upon 
the  lovely  face,  I  very  nearly  lost  sight  of  Miss  Virginia,  who 
followed  her  sister. 

I  hastened  to  ofifer  my  arm  to  the  modest  little  flower,  and 
followed  Judge  Conway,  who  approached  the  parson,  standing, 
prayer-book  in  hand,  in  the  middle  of  the  apartment. 

In  another  instant  Mohun  was  standing  beside  Miss  Georgia, 
and  the  ceremony  began. 

It  was  not  destined  to  proceed  far. 

The  clergyman  had  nearly  finished  the  exhortation  with 
which  the  "form  for  the  solemnization  of  matrimony,"  com- 
mences. 


WHAT    OCCURRED.  467 

All  at  once  I  was  certain  that  I  heard  steps  on  the  portico,  and 
in  the  hall  of  the  mansion. 

The  rest  seemed  not  to  hear  them,  however,  and  Mr.  Hope  con- 
tinued the  ceremony. 

"Into  this  holy  estate,"  he  went  on,  "these  two  persons  pre- 
sent come  now  to  be  joined.  If  any  man  can  show  just  cau^ie 
why  the\'may  not  lawfully  be  joined  together,  let  him  now  speak, 
or  else  hereafter  forever  hold  his  peace." 

As  he  uttered  the  words  the  door  was  suddenly  burst  open,  and 
Darke  entered  the  apartment  with  the  gray  woman. 

In  the  midst  of  the  stupor  of  astonishment,  she  advanced 
straight  toward  Georgia  Conway,  twined  her  arm  in  that  of  the 
young  lady,  and  said  quietly  : — 

"  How  do  you  do,  cousin?  I  am  Lucretia  Conway.  Your 
father  is  ray  uncle.  I  have  come  to  show  just  cause  why  you 
cannot  marry  General  Mohun — my  husband!" 


XX. 

WHAT  OCCURRED  AT  "  FIVE  FORKS,"  OX  THE  NIGHT 

OF  MARCH  31,  18G5. 

Mohun  turned  like  a  tiger,  a:nd  was  evidently  about  to  throw 
himself  upon  Darke.     I  grasped  his  arm  and  restrained  him. 

"  Listen!"  I  said. 

The  house  was  surrounded  by  trampling  hoofs,  and  clattering 
sabres. 

Darke  had  not  drawn  his  pistol,  and  now  glanced  at  me.  His 
face  was  thin  and  pale — he  was  scarce  the  shadow  of  himself — 
but  his  eyes  burned  with  a  strange  fire  under  his  bushy  brows. 

"  You  are  right.  Colonel  Surry!"  he  said,  in  his  deep  voice,  to 
me,  "  restrain  your  friend.  Let  no  one  stir,  or  they  are  dead. 
The  house  is  surrounded  by  a  squadron  of  my  cavalry.  You  are 
a  mile  from  all  succor.     You  can  make   no   resistance.     I   am 


468  MOHUiT. 

master  of  this  house.     But  I  design  to  injure  no  one.     Sit  down, 
madam,"  he  added,  to  his  companion,  "  I  v\'ish  to  sj)eak  first." 

The  sentences  followed  each  other  rapidly.  The  speaker's 
accent  was  cold,  and  had  somethiag  metallic  in  it.  The  cai)ture 
of  the  party  before  him  seemed  to  be  no  part  of  his  design. 
*  All  at  once  the  voice  of  the  strange  woman  was  heard  in  the 
silence.  She  quietly  released  the  arm  of  Georgia  Conway,  who 
had  drawn  back  with  an  expression  of  supreme  disdain  ;  and 
calmly  seating  herself  in  a  chair,  gracefully  cut  some  particles  of 
dust  from  her  gray  riding  habit  with  a  small  whip  which  she 
carried. 

"  Yes,  let  us  converse,"  she  said,  with  her  eyes  riveted  upon 
Georgia  Conway,  "  nothing  can  be  more  pleasant  than  these 
sweet  family  reunions!" 

Judge  Conway  glanced  at  the  speaker  with  eyes  full  of  sudden 
rage. 

"  Who  are  you,  madam,"  he  exclaimed,  "  who  makes  this  impu- 
dent claim  of  belonging  to  my  family  ?" 

"I  have  already  told  you,"  was  the  satirical  reply  of  the 
woman. 

*'  And  you,  sir  I"  exclaimed  the  old  judge,  suddenly  turning  and 
confi-onting  Darke,  "  perhaps  you,  too,  are  a  member  of  the  Con- 
way family?" 

"Not  exactly,"  was  the  cold  reply. 

"  Your  name,  sir  I" 

"  Mortimer  Davenant." 

Judge  Conway  gazed  at  the  speaker  with  stupor. 

''You  that  person? — you  the  son  of  General  Arthur  Dave- 
nant?" 

''  Yes,  I  am  the  son  of  General  Arthur  Davenant  of  the  Con- 
federate States  army — General  Davenant,  whom  you  hate  and 
despise  as  a  felon  and  murderer — and  I  have  come  here  to-night 
to  relieve  him  of  that  imputation;  to  tell  you  that  it  was  I  and 
not  he,  who  murdered  your  brother ! 

"  A  moment,  if  you  please,  sir,"  continued  the  speaker,  in  the 
same  low,  cold  tone,  '*do  not  interrupt  me,  I  beg.  I  iiave  little 
time,  and  intend  to  be  brief.  You  believe  that  your  brother, 
George  Conway,  was  put  to  death  by  General  Davenant.     Here 


WHAT    OCCURRED.  469 

is  the  fact  of  the  matter  :  I  saw  him  at  Dinwiddie  Court-IIonse ; 
knew  he  had  a  large  sura  of  money  on  his  person  ;  followed  liim, 
attacked  him,  murdered  him — and  with  General  Davenant's  pen- 
knife, which  I  had  accidentally  come  into  possession  of.  Then  I 
stole  the  knife  from  the  court-honse,  to  prevent  his  conviction; — 
wrote  and  sent  to  him  on  the  day  of  his  trial  a  full  confession  of 
the  murder,  signed  with  my  name — and  that  confession  he  would 
not  use  ;  he  would  not  inculpate  his  son  ;  for  ten  years  he  has 
chosen  rather  to  labor  under  the  imputation  of  murder,  than 
hlacken  the  name  of  a  castaway  son,  whose  character  was  wretched 
already,  and  whom  he  believed  dead. 

"  That  is  what  I  came  here,  to-night,  to  say  to  you,  sir.  I  am 
a  wretch — I  know  that — it  is  a  dishonor  to  touch  my  hand,  stained 
with  every  vice,  and  much  crime.  But  I  am  not  entirely  lost, 
though  I  told — my  father — so,  when  I  met  him,  not  long  since. 
Even  a  dog  will  not  turn  and  bite  the  hand  that  has  been  kind  to 
him.  I  was  a  gentleman  once,  and  am  a  vulgar  fellow  now — but 
there  is  something  worse  than  crime,  in  my  estimation  ;  it  is  cow- 
ardice and  ingratitude.  You  shall  not  continue  to  despise  my 
father ;  he  is  innocent  of  that  murder.  You  have  no  right  to  con- 
tinue your  opposition  to  my  brother's  marriage  with  your  daugh- 
ter, for  he  is  not  the  son  of  the  murderer  of  your  brother.  /  count 
for  nothing  in  this.  I  am  not  my  father's  sou,  or  my  brother's 
brother.  I  am  an  outcast— a  lost  man — dead,  as  far  as  they  are 
concerned.  It  was  to  tell  you  this  that  I  have  come  here  to- 
night— and  for  that  only." 

"And — this  woman?"  said  Judge  Conway,  pale,  and  glaring 
at  the  speaker. 

"Let  her  speak  for  herself,"  said  Darke,  coldly. 

"  I  will  do^so,  with  pleasure,"  said  the  woman,  coolly,  but  with 
an  intenselv  satirical  smile.  That  smile  chilled  me — it  was  worse 
than  any  excess  of  rage.  TJie  glance  she  threw  upon  Georgia 
Conway  was  one  of  such  profound,  if  covert,  hatred,  that  it  drove 
my  hand  to  my  hilt  as  though  to  grasp  some  weapon. 

"  I  will  be  brief,"  continued  the  woman,  rising  slowly,  and 
looking  at  Georgia  Conway,  with  that  dagger-like  smile.  "  Gen- 
eral Darke-Davenant  has  related  a  pleasing  little  history.  I  will 
relate  another,  and  address  myself  more  particularly  to  Judge 


470  MOHUN. 

Conway — my  dear  uncle.  He  does  not,  or  will  not,  recognize 
me  ;  and  I  suppose  I  may  have  changed.  But  that  is  not  import- 
ant. I  am  none  the  less  Lucretia  Conway.  You  do  not  remem- 
ber that  young  lady,  perhaps,  sir;  your  proud  Conway  blood  has 
banished  from  your  memory  the  very  fact  of  her  former  existence. 
And  yet  she  existed — she  exists  still — she  is  speaking  to  you — 
unbosoming  herself  in  the  midst  of  her  dear  family!  But  to  tell 
ray  little  story — it  will  not  take  many  minutes.  I  was  born  here, 
you  remember,  uncle,  and  grew  up  what  is  called  headstrong.  At 
sixteen,  I  fell  in  love  with  a  young  Adonis  with  a  mustache  ;  and, 
as  you  and  the  rest  opposed  my  marriage,  obdurately  refusing 
your  consent,  I  yielded  to  the  eloquence  of  Mr.  Adonis,  and 
eloped  with  him,  going  to  the  North.  Here  we  had  a  quarrel. 
I  grew  angry,  and  slapped  Adonis ;  and  he  took  his  revenge  by 
departing  without  leaving  me  a  wedding-ring  to  recall  his  dear 
imafire.  Then  I  met  that  gentleman — General  Darke-Mortimer- 
Davenant!  We  took  a  fancy  to  each  other;  we  became  friends; 
and  soon  afterward  travelled  to  the  South,  stopping  in  Dinwiddie. 
Here  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  General  Mohun — there  he  stands ; 
he  fell  desperately  in  love  with  me — married  me — Parson  Hope 
will  tell  you  that — and  then  attempted  to  murder  me,  without 
rhyme  or  reason.  Luckily,  I  made  my  escape  from  the  monster ! 
rejoined  my  friend,  General  Darke-Davenant ;  the  war  came  on  ; 
I  came  back  here  ;  have  been  lately  arrested,  but  escaped  by  brib- 
ing the  rebel  jailers ;  only,  however,  to  find  that  my  naughty  hus- 
band is  going  to  marry  my  cousin  Georgia  !  Can  you  wonder, 
then,  that  I  have  exerted  myself  to  be  present  at  the  interesting 
ceremony  ?  That  I  have  yielded  to  my  fond  atfection,  and  come 
to  say  to  my  dear  Georgia,  'Don't  marry  my  husband,  cousin!' 
And  yet  you  frown  at  me — you  evidently  hate  me — you  think  I 
am  lying — that  I  was  married  before,  perhaps.  Well,  if  that  be 
the  case,  where  is  the  proof  of  that  marriage  ?" 

"  Here  it  is!"  said  a  voice,  which  made  the  woman  turn  sud- 
denly. 

And  opening  the  heavy  window-curtains,  which  had,  up  to  this 
moment,  concealed  him,  Xighthawk  advanced  into  the  apartment, 
holding  in  his  hand  a  paper. 

A  wild  rage  filled  the  eyes  of  the  woman,  but  now  so  smiling. 


WHAT    OCCURRED.  47I 

Her  hand  darted  to  her  bosom,  and  I  saw  the  gleam  of  a 
poniard. 

"This  paper,"  said  Xighthawk,  coolly,  "was  found  on  the 
dead  body  of  a  man  named  Alibi,  who  had  stolen  it.  See,  Judge 
Conway  ;  it  is  in  regular  form.  '  At  Utica,  New  York,  Moi'timer 
Davenant  to  Lucretia  Conwav.'  Attested  bv  seal  and  signature. 
There  can  be  no  doubt  of  its  genuineness." 

Suddenly  a  hoarse  exclamation  was  heard,  and  a  poniard 
gleamed  in  the  hand  of  the  woman. 

With  a  single  bound,  she  reached  Georgia  Conway,  and  struck 
at  her  heart.  The  corsage  of  the  young  lady,  however,  turned  the 
poniard,  and  at  the  same  instant  a  thundering  volley  of  musketry 
resounded  without. 

Furious  cries  were  then  heard ;  the  wild  trampling  of  horses ; 
and  a  loud  voice  ordering: — 

"  Put  them  to  the  bayonet!" 

Darke  drew  his  sword,  and  reached  the  side  of  the  woman  at 
a  bound.  Throwing  his  arms  around  her,  he  raised  her,  and 
rushed,  witii  his  burden,  through  the  hall,  toward  the  lawn, 
where  a  fierce  combat  was  in  progress. 

Suddenly  the  woman  uttered  a  wild  cry,  and  relaxed  her  grasp 
upon  his  neck.     A  bullet  had  buried  itself  in  her  bosom. 

Darke's  hoarse  and  menacing  voice  echoed  the  cry  ;  but  he  did 
not  release  the  body ;  with  superhuman  strength  he  raised  it  aloft, 
and  bounded  down  the  steps. 

As  he  reached  the  bottom,  a  man  rushed  upon  him,  and  drove 
his  bayonet  through  his  breast.  It  was  withdrawn,  streaming 
with  blood. 

"Put  all  to  the  bayonet!"  shouted  the  voice  of  General 
Davenant,  as  he  charged  with  his  young  son,  Charles,  beside 
liira. 

At  that  voice  Darke  stretched  out  both  hands,  and  dropping 
his  sword,  uttered  a  cry,  which  attracted  the  general's  attention. 

For  an  instant  they  stood  facing  each  other — unutterable  hor- 
ror in  the  eyes  of  General  Davenant. 

"  I  am — done  for,"  exclaimed  Darke,  a  bloody  foam  rushing  to 
his  lips,  "but — I  have  told  him — that  /  was  the  murderer — that 
you  were  innocent.     Give  me  your  hand,  father!" 

on* 


472  MOHUN. 

General  Davenant  leaped  to  the  ground,  and  with  a  piteous 
groan  received  the  dying  man  in  h\s  arms. 

'*I  am  a  wretch — I  know  that — but  I  was  a  Davenant  once" — 
came  in  low  murmurs.  "Tell  Will,  he  can  marry  now,  for  I  will 
be  dead — kiss  me  once,  Charley  !" 

The  weeping  boy  threw  himself  upon  his  knees,  and  pressed 
his  lips  to  those  of  his  brother. 

As  he  did  so,  the  wounded  man  fell  back  in  his  father's  arms, 
and  expired. 


XXI. 

FIVE     FORKS. 

On  the  day  after  these  events,  Lee's  extreme  right  at  Five 
Forks,  was  furiously  attacked,  and  in  spite  of  heroic  resistance, 
the  little  force  under  Pickett  and  Fitzhugh  Lee  was  completely 
routed  and  dispersed. 

Do  you  regard  that  term  "heroic,"  as  merely  rhetorical, 
reader?" 

Hear  a  Northern  writer,  a  wearer  of  blue,  but  too  honest  not 
to  give  brave  men  their  due  : — 

"  Having  gained  the  White  Oak  road,  Warren  changed  front 
again  to  the  right,  and  advanced  westward,  so  continually  to 
take  in  flank  and  rear  whatever  hostile  force  still  continued  to 
hold  the  right  of  the  Confederate  line.  This  had  originally  been 
about  three  miles  in  extent,  but  above  two-thirds  of  it  were  now 
carried.  Yet,  vital  in  all  its  parts,  what  of  the  two  divisions  re- 
mained, still  continued  the  combat  with  unyielding  mettle.  Par- 
rying the  thrusts  of  the  cavalry  from  the  front,  this  poor  scratch 
of  a  force  threw  back  its  left  in  a  new  and  short  crotchet,  so  as 
to  meet  the  advance  of  Warren,  who  continued  to  press  in  at 
right  angles  to  the  White  Oak  road.  When  the  infantry, 
greatly  elated  with  their  success,  but  somewhat  disorganized  by 
marching  and  fighting  so  long  in  the  woods,  arrived  before  this 


FIVE    FORKS.  ^^^-^ 

new  line,  tliey  halted  aad  opened  an  untimely  fusillade,  though 
there  had  been  orders  not  to  halt.  The  officers,  indeed  iiro-ed 
their  men  forward,  but  they  continued  to  fire  without  advLncino- 
Seeincr  this  hesitation,  TVarren  dashed  forward,  calling  to  tho^e 
near  hun  to  follow.  Inspired  by  his  example,  the  color-bearers 
nnd  officers  all  along  the  front,  sprang  out,  and  without  more 
tirmg,  the  men  charged  atthe^^a-s  de  course,  capturing  all  that 
remainea  >,  the  enemy.  The  history  of  the  war  presents  no 
equally  sT^.-did  illustration  of  personal  magnetism.     .  A 

charge  ot  tne  cavalry  completed  the  rout,  and  the  remnants  of 
tlie  divisions  of  Pickett  and  Johnson  fled  westward  from  Five 
i^orks,  pursued  for  many  miles,  and  until  long  after  dark,  by  the 
mounted  divisions  of  Merritt  and  McKenzie." 

That  is  picturesque,  is  it  not  ?     It  is  amusing,  too-though  so 
tragic.  ^ 

You   can  see  that  "poor  scratch  of  a  force"  fighting  to  the 
death,  can  you  not?    You  can  see  the  poor  little  handful  attacked 
by  bheridan's  crack  cavalry  corps  in  front,  and  then  suddenlv  bv 
Warren  s  superb  infantry  corps  in    both   their   flank  and  i-ear 
lou  can  see  them,  game  to  the  last,  throwing  back  their  left  in  the 
crochet  to  meet  Warren;  see  that  good  soldier  cheering  on  his 
men    "greatly  elated,"  but  "somewhat    disorganized,"  too-so 
much  so  that  they  suddenly  halt,  and  require  the  "personal  mag- 
netism "  ot  the  general  to  inspire  them,  and  bring  them  up  to  the 
work.     Then  the  little  scratch  gives  way-they  are  a  handful 
and  two  corps  are  pressing  them.      They  have  "continued  the 
combat  with  unyielding  mettle,"  as  long  as  they  could-now  they 
are  driven;  and  on  rushes  the  thundering  cavaliers  to  destrov 
them  !     Sound  the  bugles !     Out  ^ith  sabres !  charge  !  ride  over 
them !    "  Hurra ! "     So  the  little  scratch  disappears. 

General  Warren,  who  won  that  fight,  was  a  brave  man,  and 
did  not  boast  of  it.  Tell  me,  general -you  are  honest-is  any 
laurel  in  your  hard-won  wreath,  labelled  "  Five  Forks  ?"  It  would 
be  msulting  that  other  laurel  labelled  "  Gettysburg,"  where  vou 
saved  Meade ! 

In  that  bitter  and  desperate  fight,  Corse's  infantry  brigade  and 
Lee  s  cavalry  won  a  renown  which  can  never  be  taken  from  them 
Ihe  mtantry  remained   unbroken   to   the  last   moment;  and  a 


474  MO  HUN". 

charge  of  Lee's  cavalry  upon  Sheridan's  drove  them  back,  well 
nigh  routed. 

But  nothing  could  avail  against  such  numbers.  The  Confed- 
erate infantry,  cavalry,  and  artillery  at  last  gave  way.  Over- 
whelmed hy  the  great  force,  they  were  shattered  and  driven. 
Night  descended  upon  a  battle-field  covered  with  heaps  of  dead 
and  wounded,  the  blue  mingled  with  the  gray. 

Among  those  wounded,  mortally  to  all  appearances,  was  Willie 
Davenant.  He  had  fought  with  the  courage  of  the  bull-dog  which 
lay  perdu  under  the  shy  bearing  of  the  boy.  All  the  army  had 
come  to  recognize  it,  by  this  time ;  and  such  was  the  high  esti- 
mate which  General  li.  E.  Lee  placed  upon  him,  that  it  is  said  he 
was  about  to  be  offered  the  command  of  a  brigade  of  infantry. 
Before  this  promotion  reached  him,  however,  the  great  crash 
came ;  and  the  brave  youth  was  to  fall  upon  the  field  of  Five 
Forks,  where  he  fought  his  guns  obstinately  to  the  very  last. 

It  was  just  at  nightfall  that  he  fell,  with  a  bullet  through  his 
breast. 

The  enemy  were  pressing  on  hotly,  and  there  was  no  time  to 
bring  off"  the  wounded  officer.  It  seemed  useless,  too.  He  lay  at 
full  length,  in  a  pool  of  blood,  and  was  breathing  heavily.  To 
attempt  to  move  him,  even  if  it  were  possible,  threatened  him 
with  instant  death. 

A  touching  incident  followed.  The  enemv  carried  Five  Forks 
as  night  descended.  They  had  advanced  so  early,  that  Judge 
Conway  and  his  daughters  had  had  no  time  to  leave  their  home. 
Compelled  to  remain  thus,  they  did  not  forget  their  duty  to  the 
brave  defenders  of  the  Confederacy,  and  when  the  firing  ceased, 
the  old  statesman  and  his  daughters  went  to  succor  the  wounded. 

Among  the  first  bodies  which  they  saw  was  that  of  "Will 
Davenant.  One  gleam  of  the  lantern  carried  by  the  Federal 
surgeon  told  all;  and  Virginia  Conway  with  a  low  moan  knelt 
down  and  raised  the  head  of  the  wounded  boy,  placing  it  upon 
her  bosom. 

As  she  did  so,  he  sisrhed  faint! v,  and  opening  his  eves,  looked 
up  into  her  face.  The  blood  rushed  to  his  cheeks  ;  he  attempted 
to  stretch  out  his  arms ;  then  falling  back  upon  her  bosom  the 
young  officer  fainted. 


FIVE    FORKS.  475 

A  cry  from  the  girl  attracted  the  attention  ot  the  Federal  sur- 
geon who  was  attending  to  the  wounded  Federalists.  He  was  a 
kind-hearted  man,  and  came  to  the  spot  whe'nce  he  had  heard 
the  crv. 

"He  is  dying!"  moaned  the  poor  girl,  with  bloodless  cheeks. 
"  Can  you  do  nothing  for  him  ?  Oh,  save  him,  sir  ! — only  save 
him  I — have  pity  upon  me  !" 

She  could  say  no  more. 

The  surgeon  bent  over  and  examined  the  wound.  When  he 
had  done  so,  he  shook  his  head. 

"  His  wound  is  mortal,  I  am  afraid,"  he  said,  "  but  I  will  do  all 
I  can  for  him." 

And  with  a  rapid  hand  he  stanched  the  blood,  and  bandaged 
the  wound. 

The  boy  had  not  stirred.  He  remained  still,  with  his  head 
leaning  upon  the  girl's  breast. 

"  Can  he  live  ?"  she  murmured,  in  a  tone  almost  inaudible. 

"  If  he  is  not  moved,  he  may  possibly  live  ;  but  if  he  is  moved  his 
death  is  certain.  The  least  change  in  the  position  of  his  body, 
for  some  hours  from  this  time,  will  be  fatal." 

"Then  he  shall  not  have  to  change  his  position!"  exclaimed 
the  girl. 

And,  with  the  pale  face  still  lying  upon  her  bosom,  she  remained 
immovable. 

Throughout  all  the  long  night  she  did  not  move  or  disturb  the 
youth.  He  had  fallen  into  a  deep  sleep,  and  his  head  still  lay 
upon  her  bosom. 

Who  can  tell  what  thoughts  came  to  that  brave  child  as  she 
thus  watched  over  his  sleep  ?  The  long  hours  on  the  lonely  battle- 
field, full  of  the  dead  and  dying,  slowly  dragged  on.  The  great 
dipper  wheeled  in  circle ;  the  moon  rose;  the  dawn  came;  still 
the  girl,  with  the  groans  of  the  dying  around  her,  held  the 
wounded  boy  in  her  arms.* 

Is  there  a  painter  in  Virginia  who  desires  a  great  subject? 
There  it  is  ;  and  it  is  historical. 

When  the  sun  rose,  Willie  Davenant  opened  his  eyes,  and  gazed 
up  into  her  face.     Their  glances  met ;  their  blushing  cheeks  were 

*  Fact. 


476  MOnUX. 

near  each  other ;  the  presence  of  her,  whom  lie  loved  so  much, 
seemed  to  have  brouglit  back  life  to  the  shattered  frame. 

An  hour  afterward  he  was  moved  to  "  Five  Forks,"  where  he 
was  tenderly  cared  for.  The  old  state^iman  had  forgotten  his.  life- 
long prejudice,  and  was  the  first  to  do  all  in  his  power  to  save 
the  boy. 

A  month  aft€rward  he  was  convalescent.  A  week  more  and 
he  was  well.  In  the  summer  of  18G5  he  was  married  to  Virginia 
Conway. 

As  for  Muhun,  his  marriage  ceremony,  so  singularly  interrupted, 
had  been  resumed  and  completed  an  hour  after  the  death  of  the 
unfortunate  Darke  and  his  companion. 


XXII. 

"THE    LINE    HAS    BEEN    STRETCHED    UNTIL   IT   HAS 

BROKEN,    COLONEL." 

At  nightfall,  on  the  first  of  April,  t£ie  immense  struggle  had 
really  ended. 

Lee's  whole  right  was  swept  away ;  he  was  hemmed  in,  in 
Petersburg ;  what  remained  for  General  Grant  was  only  to  give 
the  coup  de  grace  to  the  great  adversary,  who  still  confronted 
Lnn,  torn  and  shattered,  but  with  a  will  and  courage  wholly 
unbroken. 

It  is  not  an  exaggeration,  reader.  Judge  for  yourself.  I  am 
to  show  you  Lee  as  I  saw  him  in  this  moment  of  terrible  trial : 
still  undaunted,  raising  his  head  proudly  amid  the  crash  of  all 
around  him;  great  in  the  hour  of  victory;  in  the  hour  of  ruin, 
sublime. 

Grant  attacked  again  at  dawn,  on  the  morning  of  the  second 
of  April.  It  was  Sunday,  but  no  peaceful  church-bells  disturbed 
the  spring  air.  The  roar  of  cannon  was  heard,  instead,  hoarse 
and  menacing,  in  the  very  suburbs  of  the  devoted  city. 

There  was  no  hope  now — all  was  ended — but  the  Confederate 


"THE    LIXE    IS    BROKEN'."  477 

arms  were  to  snatch  3  last,  and  supreme  laurel,  which  time  can 
not  wither.  Attacked  in  Fort  Gregg,  by  General  Gibbon, 
Harriss'  Mississippi  brigade,  of  two  hundred  and  tiftv  men,  made 
one  of  those  struggles  which  throw  their  splendor  along  the 
paths  of  history. 

"This  handful  of  skilled  marksmen,"  says  a  ISTortheru  writer, 
"  conducted  the  defence  with  such  intrepidity,  that  Gibbon's 
forces,  surging  repeatedly  against  it,  were  each  time  thrown 
back." 

That  is  the  generous  but  cold  statement  of  an  opponent ;  but  it 
is  sufficient. 

It  was  not  until  seven  o'clock  that  Gibbon  stormed  the  fort. 
Thirty  men  only  out  of  the  two  hundred  and  fifty  were  left,  but 
they  were  still  fighting. 

In  the  attack  the  Federal  loss  was  "  about  five  hundred  men,'.' 
says  the  writer  above  quoted. 

So  fell  Lee's  last  stronghold  on  this  vital  part  of  his  lines. 
Another  misfortune  soon  followed.  The  gallant  A.  P.  Hill,  rid- 
ing ahead  of  his  men,  was  fired  on  and  killed,  by  a  small  detach- 
ment of  the  enemy  whom  he  had  halted  and  ordered  to  surrender. 

He  fell  from  his  horse,  and  was.  borne  back,  already  dying. 
That  night,  amid  the  thunder  of  the  exploding  magazines,  the 
commander,  first,  of  the  "light  division,"  and  then  of  a  great 
corps — the  hero  of  Cold  Harbor,  Sharpsburg,  and  a  hundred 
other  battles — was  buried  in  the  city  cemetery,  just  in  time  to 
avoid  seeing  the  flag  he  had  fought  under,  lowered. 

Peace  to  the  ashes  of  that  brave  !  Old  Virginia  had  no  son 
more  faithful ! 

Fort  Gregg  was  the  last  obstacle.  At  ten  o'clock  that  had 
fallen,  heavy  masses  of  the  enemy  were  pushing  forward.  Their 
bristling  battalions,  and  long  lines  of  artillery  had  advanced 
nearly  to  General  Lee's  head-quarters,  a  mile  west  of  Petersburg. 

As  the  great  blue  wave  surged  forward.  General  Lee,  in  full-dress 
uniform,  and  wearing  his  gold-hilted  sword,  looked  at  them  through 
his  field-glasses  from  thelawn,  in  frontof  his  head-quarters,  on  foot, 
and  surrounded  by  his  statf.  I  have  never  seen  him  more  composed. 
Chancing  to  address  him,  he  saluted  me  with  the  calmest  and  most 
scrupulous  courtesy;  and  his  voice  was  as  measured  and  unmoved 


478  MonuN. 

as  though  he  were  atteuding  a  parade.  Do  you  laugli  at  us,  friends 
of  the  North,  for  our  devotion  to  Lee?  You  should  have  seen 
bim  that  day,  when  ruin  stared  him  in  the  face ;  you  would  have 
known  then,  the  texture  of  that  stout  Virginia  heart. 

The  enemy's  column  literally  rushed  on.  Our  artillery,  on  a 
hill  near  by,  had  opened  a  rapid  fire  on  the  head  of  the  column  ; 
the  enemy's  object  was  to  gain  shelter  under  a  crest,  in  their 
front. 

They  soon  gained  it ;  formed  line  of  battle,  and  charged  the 
guns. 

Then  all  was  over.  The  bullets  rained,  in  a  hurtling  tempest 
on  the  cannoneers;  the  blue  line  came  on  with  loud  shouts;  and 
the  pieces  were  brought  off  at  a  gallop,  followed  by  a  hailstorm 
of  musket-balls. 

•  Suddenly  the  Federal  artillery  opened  from  a  hill  behind  their 
line.  General  Lee  had  mounted  his  iron-gray,  and  was  slowly  re- 
tiring toward  Petersburg,  surrounded  by  his  oflBcers.  His  appear- 
ance was  superb  at  this  moment — and  I  still  see  the  erect  form 
of  the  proud  old  cavalier;  his  hand  curbing  his  restive  horse;  his 
head  turned  over  his  shoulder ;  his  face  calm,  collected,  and  full 
of  that  courage  which  nothing  could  break. 

All  at  once  a  shell  screamed  from  the  Federal  battery,  and 
bursting  close  to  the  general,  tore  up  the  ground  in  a  dozen 
places.  The  horse  of  an  officer  at  his  side  was  mortally  wounded 
by  a  fragment,  and  fell  beneath  his  rider — other  animals  darted 
onward,  with  hanging  bridle-reins,  cut  by  the  shell — but  I  was 
looking  at  General  Lee,  feeling  certain  that  he  must  have  been 
wounded. 

He  had  escaped,  however.  !N'ot  a  muscle  of  his  calm  face  had 
moved.  Onlv,  as  he  turned  his  face  over  his  shoulder  in  the  di- 
rection  of  the  battery,  I  could  see  a  sudden  color  rush  to  his 
cheeks,  and  his  eye  flashed. 

''I  should  now  like  to  go  into  a  charge!"  he  said  to  Stuart, 
once,  after  a  disaster.  And  I  thought  I  read  the  same  thought  in 
Lis  face  at  this  moment. 

But  it  was  impossible.  He  had  no  troops.  The  entire  line  on 
the  right  of  Petersburg  had  been  broken  to  pieces,  and  General 
Lee  retired  slowly  to  his  inner  works,  near  the  city  where  a  little 


"THE    LINE    IS   BROKEN."  479 

skirmish  line,  full  of  fight  yet,  and  shaking  their  fists  at  the  huge 
enemy  approaching,  received  him  with  cheers  and  cries  which 
made  the  pulse  throb. 

There  was  no  Jiach  in  that  remnant— pardon  the  word,  reader; 
it  expresses  the  idea. 

"Let  'em  come  on !    We'll  give  'em !"  shonted  the  ragged 

handful.  I  dare  not  change  that  rough  sentence.  It  belongs  to 
history.  And  it  was  glorious,  if  rude.  In  front  of  that  squad  was 
a  whole  army-corps.  The  corps  was  advancing,  supported  by  a 
tremendous  artillery  fire,  to  crush  them— and  the  tatterdemalions 
defied  and  laughed  at  them. 

This  all  took  place  before  noon.  Longstreet  had  come  in  from 
the  north  of  the  James  with  his  skeleton  regiments;  and  thesa 
opposed  a  bold  front  to  the  enemy  on  the  right,  while  Gordon 
commanding  the  left,  below  the  city,  was  thundering.  A  cordon 
hemmed  in  the  little  army  now,  in  the  suburbs  of  Petersburg. 
The  right,  on  the  Boydton  road,  was  carried  away ;  and  the  left 
beyond  James  River.  One  hope  alone  remained— to  hold  Peters- 
burg  until  night,  and  then  retreat. 

I  will  not  describe  that  day.  This  volume  approaches  its  end ; 
and  it  is  fortunate.  To  describe  at  length  those  last  days  would 
be  a  terrible  task  to  the  writer. 

Lee  telegraphed  to  the  President  that  he  was  going  to  retreat 
that  night;  and  at  the  moment  when  the  ofiicers  of  .the  govern- 
ment hastily  left  Richmond  by  the  Danville  railroad,  the  army  at 
Petersburg  began  to  retire. 

Did  you  witness  what  I  describe,  reader?  What  a  spectacle! — 
the  army  of  Northern  Virginia,  or  what  was  left  of  it,  rather, 
stealing  away  amid  darkness. 

I  sat  my  horse  on  the  Hickory  road,  north  of  the  Appomattox, 
near  the  city,  and  looked  at  the  ragged  column,  which  defiled  by 
from  the  bridge  over  the  river.  In  the  starlight  I  could  see  their 
faces.  There  was  not  a  particle  of  depression  in  them.  You 
would  have  said,  indeed,  that  they  rejoiced  at  being  out  of  the 
trenches — to  be  once  more  on  the  march,  with  Lee,  riding  his  old 
iron-gray,  in  front  of  his  old  soldiers— with  the  battle-flags  of  a 
hundred  battles  still  floating  defiantly. 

General  Lee   stood   at  the   forks   of  the   road,  directing  hi:* 


480  MOHUN. 

column.  He  liad  said  little  duriiii^  the  day,  and  said  little  now, 
But  his  voice  was  as  calm  and  measured,  his  eye  as  serene  as 
before. 

"This  is  a  bad  business,  colonel!"  *  I  had  heard  him  say,  at  the 
moment  when  the  shell  burst  near  him  in  tlie  morning. 

I  heard  but  one  other  allusion  which  he  made  to  the  situation. 

"Well,  colonel,"  he  said  to  an  officer,  in  his  deep  and  sonorous 
voice,  "  it  has  happened  as  I  told  them  it  would,  at  Richmond. 
The  line  has  been  stretched  until  it  has  broken."* 

So,  over  the  Hickory  road,  leading  up  the  northern  bank  of  the 
Appomattox,  in  the  direction  of  Lynchburg — amid  the  explosion 
of  magazines,  surging  upward  like  volcanoes,  the  old  army  o/ 
Northern  Virginia,  reduced  to  fifteen  thousand  men,  went  forth, 
still  defiant,  into  the  night. 


XXIII. 

WHAT    I    SAW    FROM    THE    GRAVE    OF     STUART. 

Three  hours  afterward  I  was  in  Richmond. 

Sent  with  a  message  for  General  Ewell,  I  had  taken  the  last 
train  which  left  for  the  capital,  and  reached  the  city  toward  mid- 
night. 

The  first  person  whom  I  saw  was  Tom  Herbert,  who  ran  to 
meet  me.  His  face  was  pale,  but  his  resolute  smile  still  lit  up 
the  brave  face. 

"  Come  and  wait  on  me,  my  dear  old  friend,"  he  said;  "I  am 
to  be  married  to  night !" 

And  in  a  few  words  he  informed  me  that  Katv  had  consented 
to  have  the  ceremony  performed  before  Tom  followed  General 
Lee  southward. 

Half  an  hour  afterward  I  witnessed  a  singular  spectacle  :  that 
of  a  wedding,  past  midnight,  in  the  midst  of  hurry,  confusion, 

*  His  words. 


THE    GRAVE    OF    STUART.  4:S:[ 

uproar,  universal  despair — the  scene,  a  city  about  to  fall  into  the 
hands  of  the  enemy — from  which  the  government  and  all  its  de- 
fenders had  tied.* 

Katy  acted  her  part  bravely.  The  rosy  cheeks  were  nnhlanched 
still — the  sweet  smile  was  as  endearing.  Wlien  I  took  an  old 
friend's  privilege  to  kiss  the  smiling  lips,  there  was  no  tremor  in 
them,  and  her  blue  eyes  were  as  brave  as  ever. 

So  Tom  and  Katy  were  married — and  I  bestowed  npon  them 
my  paternal  blessing!  It  was  a  singular  incident — was  it  not. 
reader?     I>ut  war  is  full  of  such. 

I  did  not  see  Tom  again  until  I  met  him  on  the  retreat.  Ani 
Katy — I  have  never  seen  her  sweet  face  since — but  heaven  bless 
her ! 

An  hour  afterward  I  had  delivered  mv  messacre  to  General 
Ewell,  who  was  already  moving  out  with  his  small  force  to  join 
Lee.  They  defiled  across  the  bridges,  and  disappeared.  For  my- 
self, tired  out,  I  wrapped  my  cape  around  me,  and  stretching 
myself  upon  a  sofa,  at  the  house  of  a  friend,  snatched  a  little  rest. 

I  was  aroused  toward  daybreak  by  a  tremendous  explosion,  and 
going  to  the  window,  saw  that  the  city  was  in  flames.  The  ex- 
plosion had  been  caused,  doubtless,  by  blowing  up  the  mag.-izines, 
or  the  rams  in  James  River.  The  warehouses  and  bridges  had 
been  fired  in  anticipation  of  the  approach  of  the  enemy. 

It  behooved  me  to  depart  now,  unless  I  wished  to  be  captured. 
I  had  taken  the  precaution  to  provide  myself  with  a  horse  from 
one  of  the  government  stables;  the  animal  stood  ready  saddled 
behind  the  house ;  I  bade  my  alarmed  friends  farewell,  and 
mounting,  rode  through  the  streets  of  the  devoted  city  toward  the 
Capitol,  amid  bursting  shell  from  the  arsenal,  exploding  maga- 
zines, and  roaring  flames. 

I  can  not  describe  the  scenes  which  followed.  They  were 
terrible  and  would  present  a  fit  subject  for  the  brush  of  Rem- 
brandt. Fancy  crowds  of  desperate  characters  breaking  into  the 
shops  and  magazines  of  stores — negroes,  outcasts,  malefactors, 
swarming  in  the  streets,  and  shouting  amid  the  carnival.  Tlie 
state  prison  had  disgorged  its  convicts — the  slums  and  subter- 
ranean recesses  of  the  city  its  birds  of  the  night— and  now,  felons 

*  EeaL 


482  MOHUN. 

and  malefactors,  robbers,  cut-piirses  and  murderers  held  their 
riotous  and  drunken  carnival  in  the  streets,  flowing  with  whiskey. 
Over  ail  surged  tlie  flames,  roaring,  crackling,  tumultuous — the 
black  clouds  of  smoke  drifting  far  away,  under  the  blue  skies  of 
spring. 

Then  from  the  Capitol  hill,  wliere  I  had  taken  my  stand,  I  saw 
by  the  early  light,  a  spectacle  even  more  terrible — that  of  the 
enemy  entering  the  city.  They  came  on  from  Charles  City  in  a 
long  blue  column  resembling  a  serpent.  Infantry  and  troopers, 
artillery  and  stragglers — all  rushed  toward  the  doomed  city  where 
they  were  met  by  a  huge  crowd  of  dirty  and  jabbering  negroes 
and  outcasts. 

Suddenly  a  shout  near  at  hand,  thundered  up  to  the  hill.  In 
front  of  the  Exchange  a  column  of  negro  cavalry,  with  drawn 
sabres  rushed  on.  As  they  came,  they  yelled  and  jabbered — 
that  was  the  darkest  spectacle  of  all. 

I  remained  looking  at  the  frightful  pageant  with  rage  in  my 
heart,  until  the  advance  force  of  the  enemy  had  reached  the  rail- 
ing of  the  Capitol.  Then  I  turned  my  horse,  and,  pursued  by 
carbine  shots,  rode  out  of  the  western  gate,  up  Grace  Street. 

Fifty  paces  from  St.  Paul's  I  saw  Colonel  Desperade  pass  ah»ng 
— smiling,  serene,  in  black  coat,  snow-white  shirt,  tall  black  hat, 
and  with  two  ladies  leaning  upon  his  arms. 

"Ah  I  gallant  to  the  last,  I  see !"  I  growled  to  him  as  I  rode  by. 
*' '  None  but  the  brave  deserve  the  fair  I'" 

The  colonel  smiled,  but  made  no  reply. 

A  hundred  yards  farther  I  met  little  Mr.  Blocque  joyously 
approaching. 

In  his  hand  he  carried  his  safeguard,  brought  him  by  the  gray 
woman.  At  his  breast  fluttered  a  miniature  United  States  flag. 
The  little  gentleman  was  radiant,  and  exclaimed  as  he  saw  me: — 

"  "What  I  my  dear  colonel !  you  are  going  to  leave  us?  Come 
and  dine  with  me — at  five  o'clock,  precisely!" 

My  reply  was  not  polite.  I  drew  my  pistol — at  which  move- 
ment Mr.  Blocque  disappeared,  running,  at  the  corner  of  St. 
Paul's. 

On  his  heels  followed  a  portly  and  despairing  gentleman — Mr. 
Croaker. 


THE    RETREAT.  483 

"  Save  my  warehouse !  it  is  on  fire !  I  shall  be  a  beggar !"  yelled 
Mr.  Croaker. 

I  laughed  aloud  as  the  wretched  creature  rushed  by,  puffing 
and  panting.     Ten  minutes  afterward  I  was  out  of  the  city. 

My  last  view  of  Richmond  was  from  Hollywood  Hill,  near  the 
grave  of  Stuart.  The  spectacle  before  me  was  at  once  terrible 
and  splendid.  The  city  was  wrapped  in  a  sea  of  flame.  A  vast 
black  cloud  swept  away  to  the  far  horizon.  A  menacing  roar 
came  up  from  beneath  those  flames  surging  around  the  white 
Capitol  ; — the  enemy's  guns,  troopers,  musketeers  and  the  rabble, 
were  rushing  with  shouts,  yells,  and  curses  into  the  devoted  city, 
which  had  at  last  fallen  a  prey  to  the  Federal  arms. 

A  last  pang  was  to  tear  my  heart.  The  sight  before  me  was 
not  enough,  I  had  turned  my  horse  to  ride  westward,  throwing 
a  parting  glance  upon  the  city,  when  suddenly  the  Virginia  flag 
descended  from  tlie  summit  of  the  Capitol  and  the  United  States 
flag  was  run  up. 

I  turned  and  shook  my  clenched  hand  at  it. 

"That  is  not  my  flag,  and  shall  never  be!"  I  exclaimed, 
aloud. 

And  taking  oflT  my  hat  as  I  passed  the  grave  of  Stuart,  I  rode 
on,  thinking  of  the  past  and  the  present. 


XXIV. 

THE    RETREAT. 


Ceossing  James  River,  above  the  city,  I  pushed  after  the 
army,  which  I  rejoined  on  the  evening  of  the  4th,  as  it  was  cross- 
ing the  Appomattox  opposite  Amelia  Court-House. 

It  reached  that  village  on  Wednesday  April  oth,  and  you  could 
see  at  a  glance  that  its  spirit  was  unbroken.  As  to  General 
Lee,  his  resolution  up  to  that  time  had  astonished  all  who  sa'*v 
him.     Never  had  he  seemed  in  more  buoyant  spirits." 

"  I  have  got   my  army  safe  out  of  its  breastworks,"  he  said, 


48i  MOHUN. 

"  and  in  order  to  follow  rae,  my  enemy  must  abandon  his  lines, 
and  can  derive  no  further  benefit  from  his  railroads,  or  James 
Kiver.* 

It  was  only  the  faint-hearts  who  lost  hope.  Lee  was  not  of 
those.  Mounted  upon  his  old  iron  gray — at  the  head  of  his  old 
army,  if  his  little  handful  of  about  fifteen  thousand  men  could 
be  called  such — Lee  was  still  the  great  cavalier.  The  enemy  had 
not  yet  checkmated  him  :  his  heart  of  hope  was  untouched.  He 
would  cut  his  way  through,  and  the  red  flag  should  again  float  on 
victorious  fields! 

The  array  responded  to  the  feeling  of  its  chief.  The  confidence 
of  the  men  in  Lee  was  as  great  as  on  his  days  of  victory.  You 
would  have  said  that  the  events  of  the  last  few  days  were,  in  the 
estimation  of  the  troops,  only  momentary  reverses.  The  veterans 
of  Hill  and  Longstreet  advanced  steadil}',  tramping  firm,  shoulder 
to  shoulder,  with  glittering  gun  barrels,  and  faces  as  resolute  and 
hopeful  as  at  Manassas  and  Chancellorsville. 

"  Those  men  are  not  whipped,"  said  a  keen  observer  to  me,  as 
he  looked  at  the  closed-up  column  moving.  And  he  was  right. 
The  morale  of  this  remnant  of  the  great  army  of  Northern  Vir- 
ginia was  untouched.  Those  who  saw  them  then  will  testify  to 
the  truth  of  my  statement. 

At  Amelia  Court-House  a  terrible  blow,  however,  awaited  them. 
General  Lee  had  ordered  rations  to  be  sent  thither  from  North 
Carolina.  They  had  been  sent,  but  the  trains  had  gone  on  and 
disgorged  them  in  Richmond.  When  Lee  arrived  with  his  starved 
army,  already  staggering  and  faint,  not  a  pound  of  bread  or  meat 
was  found  ;  there  was  nothing. 

Those  who  saw  General  Lee  at  this  moment,  will  remember  his 
expression.  For  the  first  time  the  shadow  of  despair  passed  over 
that  brave  forehead.  Some  one  had,  indeed,  struck  a  death-blow 
at  him.  His  army  was  without  food.  All  his  plans  were  reversed. 
He  had  intended  to  reprovision  his  force  at  Amelia,  and  then 
push  straight  on.  His  plan,  I  think  I  can  state,  was  to  attack  the 
detached  forces  of  Grant  in  his  front ;  cut  his  way  through  there  ; 
cross  the  Xottoway  and   other  streams  by  means  of  pontoons, 

*  His  words. 


THE    EETREAT.  485 

which  had  been  provided  ;  and,  forming  a  junction  with  General 
Johnston,  crush  Sherman  or  retreat  into  the  Gulf  States.  All  this 
was,  liowever,  reversed  by  one  wretched,  microscopic  incident. 
The  great  machine  was  to  be  arrested  by  an  atom  in  its  path. 
Tlie  rations  were  not  found  at  Amelia  Court-House ;  the  army 
mnst  have  food,  or  die.;  lialf  the  force  was  dispersed  in  foraging 
parties  throughout  the  surrounding  country ;  and  the  delay  gave 
Grant  time  to  mass  heavily  in  Lee's  front,  at  Burksville. 

Then  all  was  decided,  Lee  had  not  doubted  his  ability  to  crush 
a  corps,  or  even  more,  before  the  main  force  of  the  enemy  came 
up.  He  saw  as  clearly  now,  that  there  was  no  hope  of  his  cut- 
ting his  way  through  Grant's  army.  It  was  there  in  his  front — the 
failure  of  rations  had  caused  all.  TTith  what  must  have  been  a 
terrible  weight  upon  his  heart,  Lee  directed  his  march  toward 
Lynchburg,  determined  to  fight  to  the  end ;  and,  as  he  had  said 
during  the  winter,  "die  sword  in  hand." 

Then  commenced  the  woeful  tragedy.  "What  words  can  paint 
that  retreat?  There  is  only  one*  other  that  equals  it — Napoleon's 
retreat  from  Moscow.  The  army  staggered  on,  fighting,  and 
starving,  and  dying.  Stalwart  men  fell  by  the  roadside,  or 
dropped  their  muskets  as_they  tottered  on.  The  wagons  were 
drawn  by  skeleton  mules,  without  food  like  the  soldiers.  If  an 
ear  of  corn  was  found,  the  men  seized  and  munched  it  fiercely, 
like  animals.  Covered  with  mud,  blackened  with  powder,  with 
gaunt  frames,  and  glaring  eyes,  the  old  guard  of  the  army  of 
Northern  Virginia  still  stood  to  their  colors — fighting  at  every 
step,  despairing,  but  not  shrinking;  and  obeying  the  orders  of 
Lee  to  the  last. 

You  would  not  doubt  that  confidence  in,  and  love  for,  their 
commander,  reader,  if  you  had  witnessed  the  scene  which  I  did, 
near  Highbridge.  The  enemy  had  suddenly  assailed  Ewell  and 
Custis  Lee,  and  broken  them  to  pieces.  The  blue  horsemen  and 
intantry  pressing  fiercely  on  all  sides,  and  hunting  their  oppo- 
nents to  the  death,  seemed,  at  this  moment,  to  have  delivered  a  blow 
from  which  the  Confederates  could  not  rise.  The  attack  had  fallen 
like  a  thunderbolt.  Ewell,  Anderson,  and  Custis  Lee  were  swept 
away  by  mere  weight  of  numbers;  the  whole  army  seemed  threat- 
ened with  instant  destruction. 


486  M  0  n  U  N . 

Lee  suddenly  appeared,  Lowever,  and  tlie  scene  which  followed 
was  indescribable.  He  had  rushed  a  brigade  across,  riding  in 
front  on  his  iron-gray ;  and  at  that  instant  he  resembled  some 
nobleman  of  the  old  age  on  the  track  of  the  wild-boar.  With  head 
erect,  face  unmoved,  eyes  clear  and  penetrating,  he  had  reached 
the  scene  of  danger;  and  as  the  disordered  remnants  of  EwelFs 
force  crowded  the  hill,  hot  and  panting,  they  had  suddenly  seen, 
rising  between  them  and  the  enemy,  a  wall  of  bayonets,  flanked 
by  cannon. 

A  great  painter  should  have  been  present  then.  Night  had 
fallen,  and  the  horizon  was  lit  up  by  the  glare  of  burning  wagons. 
Every  instant  rose,  sudden  and  menacing,  the  enemy's  signal 
rockets.  On  the  summit  of  the  hill,  where  the  infantry  waited, 
Lee  rode  among  the  disordered  men  of  Ewell,  and  his  presence 
raised  a  storm. 

"It's  General  Lee!" 

"Uncle  Robert!" 

"  "Where's  the  man  who  won't  follow  old  Uncle  Robert!" 

Such  were  the  shouts,  cries,  and  fierce  exclamations.  The  hag- 
gard faces  flushed  ;  the  gaunt  hands  were  clenched.  On  all  sides 
explosions  of  rage  and  defiance  were  heard.  The  men  called  on 
the  gray  old  cavalier,  sitting  his  horse  as  calm  as  a  statue,  to  take 
command  of  them,  and  lead  them  against  the  enemy. 

No  attack  was  made  on  them.  An  hour  afterward  the  army 
moved  again — the  rear  covered  by  General  Fitzhugh  Lee  with 
his  cavalry,  which,  at  every  step,  met  the  blue  huntsmen  pressing 
on  to  hunt  down  their  prey. 

Such  were  some  of  the  scenes  of  the  retreat,  up  to  the  7th. 
"Who  has  the  heart  to  narrate  what  followed  in  the  next  two 
days?  A  great  army  dying  slowly — starving,  fighting,  falling — is 
a  frightful  spectacle.  I  think  the  memory  of  it  must  aifect  even 
the  enemies  who  witnessed  it. 

It  is  only  a  small  portion  of  the  tragic  picture  that  the  present 
writer  has  the  heart  to  paint. 


HUNTED    DOWN.  487 


XXV. 

HUXTED    DOWN. 

On  the  morning  of  the  7th  of  April,  and  throughout  the  8th, 
the  horrors  of  the  retreat  cuhuinated. 

The  army  was  fighting  at  ever}''  step.  Hope  had  deserted  them, 
but  they  "were  still  fighting. 

On  every  side  pressed  the  enemy  like  bands  of  wolves  hunting 
down  the  wounded  steed. 

Grordon  and  Longstreet,  commanding  the  two  skeleton  corps  of 
infantry,  and  Fitzhugh  Lee  the  two  or  three  thousand  cavalry 
remaining,  met  the  incessant  attacks,  with  a  nerve  which  had  in 
it  something  of  the  heroic. 

Fitz  Lee  had  commanded  the  rear  guard  on  the  whole  retreat. 
All  along  the  route  he  had  confronted  the  columns  of  Sheridan, 
and  checked  them  with  heavy  loss. 

At  Paynesville  he  had  driven  Sheridan  back,  killing,  wounding, 
and  capturing  two  hundred  of  his  men.  At  Highbridge  he  cap- 
tured seven  hundred  and  eighty  more,  killing  many,  among  the  rest 
the  Federal  General  Read.  On  the  morning  of  the  7th,  beyond 
the  river,  he  drove  back  a  large  column,  capturing  General  Irwin 
Greff:r. 

That  was  a  brave  resistance  made  by  the  old  army  of  Xorthern 
Virginia,  reader,  as  it  was  slowly  advancing  into  the  gulf  of 
perdition. 

Beyond  Farrnville  there  was  no  longer  any  hope.  All  was 
plainly  over.  I  shrink  from  the  picture,  but  here  is  that  of  one 
of  my  friends.  "  It  became  necessary  to  burn  hundreds  of 
wagons.  At  intervals  the  enemy's  cavalry  dashed  in  and  struck 
the  interminable  train,  here  or  there,  capturing  and  burning 
dozens  on  dozens  of  wagons.  Hundreds  of  men  dropped  from 
exhaustion,  and  thousands  let  fall  their  muskets  from  inability  to 
carry  them  any  farther.  The  scenes  were  of  a  nature  which 
can  be  apprehended  in  its  vivid  reality  only  by  men  who  are 
thoroughly  familiar  with  the  harrowing  details  of  war.  Behind, 
21  "* 


488  MOnUK. 

and  on  either  flank,  a  ubiquitous  and-  increasingly  adventurous 
enemy;  every  mud-hole  and  every  rise  in  the  road  clioked  with 
blazing  wagons  ;  the  air  filled  with  the  deafening  reports  of  am- 
munition exploding,  and  shell  bursting  when  touched  by  the  ' 
flames ;  dense  columns  of  smoke  ascending  to  heaven  from  the 
burning  and  exploding  vehicles  ;  exhausted  men,  worn-out  mules 
and  horses,  lying  down  side  by  side;  gaunt  famine  glaring  hope- 
lessly from  sunken  lack-lustre  eyes ;  dead  mules,  dead  horses, 
dead  men,  everywhere  ;  death  many  times  welcomed  as  God's 
blessing  in  disguise — w^ho  can  wonder  if  many  hearts  tried  in  the 
fiery  furnace  of  four  unparalleled  years,  and  never  hitherto  found 
wanting,  should  have  quailed  in  presence  of  starvation,  fatigue, 
sleeplessness,  misery,  unintermitted  for  five  or  six  days,  and  cul- 
minating in  hoplessness?"  * 

They  did  not  "quail,"  they  fell.  It  was  not  fear  that  made 
them  drop  the  musket,  their  only  hope  of  safety ;  it  was  weak- 
ness. It  was  an  army  of  phantoms  that  staggered  on  toward 
Lynchburg — and  what  had  made  them  phantoms  was  hunger. 

Let  others  describe  those  last  two  days  in  full.  For  myself  I 
can  not.  To  sum  up  all  in  one  sentence.  The  army  of  Northern 
Virginia,  which  had  for  four  years  snatched  victory  upon  some 
of  the  bloodiest  battle-fields  of  history,  fought,  reeled,  fired  its 
last  rounds,  and  fell  dead  from  starvation,  defying  fiercely  with 
its  last  breath,  gurgling  through  blood  in  its  throat,  the  enemy 
who  was  hunting  it  down  to  its  death. 

Call  it  what  you  will,  reader — there  was  something  in  those 
men  that  made  them  fight  to  the  last. 

•  The  Hon.  Charles  Francis  Lawlcy,  in  the  London  Times, 


THE    COUIs^CIL    OF    "WAR.  489 


XXVI. 

THE   LAST    COUNCIL   OF  WAR   OF   THE   ARMY   OF 
NORTHERN"   VIRGINIA. 

Ox  the  night  of  the  8th  of  April,  within  a  feAv  miles  of  Appo- 
mattox Court-House,  took  place  the  last  council  of  war  of  the 
army  of  Northern  Virginia. 

It  was  in  the  open  air,  beside  a  camp-fire,  near  which  were 
spread  General  Lee's  blankets;  for  throughout  the  retreat  he 
had  used  no  tent,  sleeping,  shelterless  like  his  men,  by  the 
bivouac  fire. 

To  this  last  council  of  war,  none  but  the  corps  commanders 
were  invited.  Thus  the  only  persons  present  w^ere  Gordon  and 
Longstreet,  commanding  the  skeleton  corps  of  infantry,  and 
Fitzhugh  Lee,  the  cavalry  of  the  army. 

Gordon  was  stretched  near  Fitzhugh  Lee,  upon  the  blankets  of 
the  commander-in-chief;  Gordon,  with  his  clear  complexion,  his 
penetrating  eyes,  his  firm  lip,  his  dark  hair,  and  uniform  coat 
buttoned  to  his  chin — the  man  to' fight  and  die  rather  than  sur- 
render. Near  him  lay  Fitz  Lee,  the  ardent  and  laughing  cavalier, 
with  the  flowing  beard,  the  sparkling  eyes,  the  top-boots,  and 
cavalry  sabre — the  man  to  stand  by  Gordon.  On  a  log,  a  few  feet 
distant,  sat  the  burly  Longstreet,  smoking  with  perfect  noncha- 
lance— his  heavily  bearded  face  exhibiting  no  emotion  whatever. 
Erect,  within  a  few  paces  of  these  three  men,  stood  General  Lee — 
grave,  commanding,  unmoved;  the  fire-light  revealing  every  out- 
line of  his  vigorous  person,  clad  in  its  plain  gray  uniform,  the 
gray  beard  and  mustache,  the  serene  eyes,  and  that  stately  poise 
of  the  head  upon  the  shoulders,  which  seemed  to  mark  this 
human  being  for  command. 

All  these  persons  were  composed.  Their  faces  were  haggard 
from  want  of  rest,  but  there  was  nothing  in  their  expressions  in- 
dicating anxiety,  though  some  gloom. 

"  It  was  a  picture  for  an  artist,"  said  that  one  of  them  who 


490  MOHUN. 

described  the  scene  to  me  afterward.  The  ruddy  liglit  brought 
out  every  detail  of  these  martial  figures.  By  that  fire  on  the 
roadside  had  assembled  for  the  last  time  General  Robert  E.  Lee 
and  his  corps  commanders. 

The  council  was  brief. 

General  Lee  succinctly  laid  before  his  listeners  the  whole 
situation. 

His  army  was  on  a  strip  of  land  between  tlie  James  River  and 
the  enemy.  He  could  not  cross  the  river — if  he  could  not  break 
througli  the  enemv  in  his  front  the  armv  was  lost.  General 
Grant  had  understood  his  situation,  and  a  correspondence  had 
taken  place.  He  would  read  General  Grant's  notes  and  copies  of 
his  own  replies. 

By  the  light  of  the  fire,  General  Lee  then  proceeded  to  read 
the  papers  alluded  to. 

Grant  had  opened  the  correspondence.  "  The  result  of  the 
last  week  must  convince  General  Lee,"  he  wrote,  "of  the  hope- 
lessness of  further  resistance  on  the  part  of  the  army  of  Northern 
Virginia."  He  therefore  "  asked  the  surrender"  of  that  army 
to  prevent  bloodshed. 

Lee  had  written  in  reply,  requesting  Grant  to  state  the  terms. 

Grant  had  stated  them  on  this  8th  of  April,  and  Lee  had  re- 
plied at  once  that  he  "  did  not  intend  to  propose  the  surrender  of 
the  army  of  JSTorthern  Virginia,  but  to  ask  the  terms  of  General 
Grant's  proposition.  To  be  frank,"  he  had  added,  "I  do  not 
think  the  emer^encv  has  arisen  to  call  for  the  surrender."  But 
he  would  meet  General  Grant  on  the  next  morning  to  discuss  the 
whole  affair. 

There  the  correspondence  had  terminated.  Wliat  was  the 
opinion  of  his  corps  commanders  ? 

Their  replies  were  brief  and  informal.  The  scene  was  august 
but  simple.     What  was  determined  upon  was  this — 

That  the  army  should  continue  its  marcli  on  the  next  day 
toward  Lynchburg,  breaking  through  Sheridan's  cavalry  wliich 
was  known  to  be  in  front;  but  in  case  the  Federal  infantry,  a  very 
different  thing  from  the  cavalry,  was  found  to  be  "up,"  then 
Gordon,  who  was  to  lead  the  advance,  should  inform  the  com- 
mander-in-chief of  that  fact,  when  a  flaar  of  truce  would  be  sent 


BEFORE     illE    SURRENDER.  491 

to  General  Grant  acceding  to  the  terms  of  capitulation  proposed 
in  his  last  note  to  General  Lee. 

Fitzbugli  Lee  only  stipulated  that  if  lie  saw  that  the  Federal 
intantry  in  his  front,  rendered  surrender  inevitable,  he  should  be 
allowed  to  go  off  with  his  cavalry  to  save  the  horses  of  his  men. 

This  was  agreed  to,  and  it  will  be  seen  that  Fitz  Lee  availed 
himself  of  the  commander-in-chiefs  permission. 

So  ended  that  last  council  of  war,  by  the  camp  fire. 

"With  grave  salutes  and  a  cordial  pressure  of  the  brave  hands, 
the  famous  soldiers  took  leave  of  Lee. 

As  they  disappeared  he  drew  his  blanket  around  him  and  fell 
asleep  by  the  blazing  fire. 

It  was  the  night  of  April  8th,  1865 — three  years,  day  for  day, 
from  the  moment  when  these  lines  are  written. 


XXVII. 

THE  XIGHT  BEFORE  THE  SURRENDER. 

Throughout  that  strange  night  of  the  eighth  of  April,  1865,  I 
was  in  the  saddle,  carrying  orders. 

Those  who  saw  it  will  remember  how  singularly  brilliant  it 
was.  The  moon  and  stars  shone.  The  light  clouds  sweeping 
across  the  sky  scarcely  obscured  the  mournful  radiance.  All  was 
still.  The  tAvo  armies — one  surrounded  and  at  bay,  the  other 
readv  to  finish  the  work  before  it — rested  silentlv  on  their  arms, 
waiting  for  that  day  which  would  bring  the  thunder. 

Every  arrangement  liad  been  made  by  Lee  to  break  through 
the  force  in  his  front,  and  gain  Lynchburg,  from  which  he  could 
retreat  to  the  southwest. 

The  column  of  infantry  to  open  the  way  was  about  one  thou- 
sand six  hundred  men,  under  Gordon.  The  cavalry,  numbering 
two  or  three  thousand,  was  commanded  by  Fitzhugh  Lee.  The 
artillery,  consisting  of  three  or  four  battalions,  was  placed  under 
that  brave  spirit,  Colonel  Thomas  H.  Carter. 


492  MOHUN. 

For  the  tough  work,  Lee  had  selected  three  braves. 

I  saw  them  all  that  night,  and  read  in  their  eyes  the  fire  of  an 
unalterable  resolution. 

You  know  those  men,  reader.  If  you  do  not,  history  knows 
them.  It  was  their  immense  good  fortune  to  bear  the  red  cross 
banner  in  the  last  charge  on  the  enemy,  and  with  their  handful 
of  followers  to  drive  the  Federal  forces  back  nearly  a  mile,  half 
an  hour  before  Lee's  surrender. 

I  had  just  left  General  Fitzhugh  Lee,  near  Appomattox  Court- 
House,  and  was  riding  through  the  pines,  when  a  sonorous  voice 
halted  me. 

"  "Who  goes  there?"  said  the  voice. 

"  Surrv,  Mordaunt !" 

For  I  had  recognized  the  voice  of  the  general  of  cavalry.  "We 
have  seen  little  of  him,  reader,  in  this  rapid  narrative ;  but  in 
all  the  long  hard  battles  from  the  Rapidan  to  this  night,  I  had 
everywhere  found  myself  thrown  in  collision  with  the  great 
soldier — that  tried  and  trusty  friend  of  my  heart.  The  army  had 
saluted  him  on  a  hundred  fields.  His  name  had  become  the 
synonym  of  unfaltering  courage.  He  was  here,  on  the  verge  of 
surrender  now,  looking  as  calm  and  resolute  as  on  his  davs  of 
victory. 

"  "Well,  old  friend,"  said  Mordaunt,  grasping  my  hand  and  then 
leaning  upon  my  shoulder ;  "  as  the  scriptures  say,  what  of  the 
night?" 

"Bad,  Mordaunt." 

"  I  understand.     You  think  the  enemy's  infantry  is  up." 

"Yes." 

"  Then  we'll  have  hard  work  ;  but  we  are  used  to  that,  Surry." 

**  The  work  is  nothing.  It  is  death  only.  But  something 
worse  than  death  is  coming  Mordaunt." 

"AVhat?" 

"  Surrender." 

Jklordaunt  shook  his  head. 

"  I  am  not  going  to  surrender,"  he  said.  "  I  have  sworn  to  one 
I  love  more  than  my  life — you  know  whom  I  mean,  Surry — that 
I  would  come  back,  or  die,  sword  in  hand  ;  and  I  will  keep  my 
oath." 


BEFORE    THE    SURRENDER.  493 

The  proud  face  glowed.     In  the  serene  but  fiery  eyes  I  could 
read  the  expression  of  an  unchangeable  resolution. 
"Another  friend  of  ours  has  sworn  that,  too,"  he  said. 
"Who?" 
"Mohun." 

"  And  just  married !  His  poor,  young  wife,  like  yours,  is  far 
from  him." 

"  You  are  mistaken  ;  she  is  near  him.     She  went  ahead  of  the 
army,  and  is  now  at  the  village  here." 
"  Is  it  possible  ?     And  where  is  Mohun  ?" 

"  He  is  holding  the  advance  skirmish  line,  on  the  right  of  Gor- 
don. Look !  Do  you  see  that  fire,  yonder,  glimmering  through 
the  woods?     I  left  him  there  half  an  hour  since." 

"  I  will  go  and  see  him.  Do  nothing  rash,  to-morrow,  Mor- 
daunt.  Remember  that  poor  Old  Virginia,  if  no  one  else,  needs 
you  yet  I" 

"Be  tranquil,  Surry,"  he  replied,  with  a  cool  smile.  "Fare- 
well; w^e  shall  meet  at  Philippi!" 

And  we  parted  with  a  pressure  of  the  hand. 

I  rode  toward  the  fire.  Stretched  on  his  cape,  beside  it,  I  saw 
the  figure  of  Mohun.  He  was  reading  in  a  small  volume,  and  did 
not  raise  his  head  until  I  was  within  three  paces  of  him. 

"  What  are  you  reading,  Mohun?" 

He  rose  and  grasped  my  hand. 

"The  only  book  for  a  soldier,"  he  said,  with  his  frank 
glance  and  brave  smile — "  the  book  of  books,  my  dear  Surry — 
that  which  tells  us  to  do  our  duty,  and  trust  to  Providence." 

I  glanced  at  the  volume,  and  recognized  it.  I  had  seen  it  in 
the  hands  of  Georgia  Conway,  at  Five  Forks.  On  the  fly  leaf, 
which  was  open,  her  name  was  written.  i 

"That  is  her  Bible,"  I  said,  "and  doubtless  you  have  just 
parted  with  her." 

"  Yes,  I  see  you  know  that  she  is  here,  not  far  from  me." 

"  Mordaunt  told  me.  It  must  be  a  great  delight  to  you,  Mo- 
hun." 

He  smiled,  and  sighed. 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  "but  a  sort  of  sorrow,  too." 

"  Why  a  sorrow  ?" 


494:  MOHUN. 

Mohun  -was  silent.     Then  he  said  : — 

''  I  think  I  shall  fall  to-morrow." 

"Absurd!"  I  said,  trying  to  laugh,  "Why  should  you  fancy 
such  a  thing?" 

"  I  am  not  going  to  surrender,  Surry.  I  swore  to  Cliarabliss, 
my  old  comrade,  that  I  would  never  surrender,  and  ho  swore 
that  to  me.  He  was  killed  in  Charles  City — he  kept  his  word  ; 
I  will  not  break  mine,  friend." 

My  head  sank.  I  had  taken  my  seat  on  Moliun's  cape,  and 
gazed  in  silence  at  the  fire. 

"Tliat  is  a  terrible  resolution,  Mohun,"  I  said  at  length. 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  with  entire  calmness,  "especially  in  me. 
It  is  hard  to  die,  even  when  we  are  old  and  sorrowful — when  life 
is  a  burden.  Men  cling  to  this  miserable  existence  even  when  old 
ago  and  grief  have  taken  away,  one  by  one,  all  the  pleasures  of 
life.  Think,  then,  what  it  must  be  to  die  in  the  flush  of  youth, 
and  health,  and  happiness !  I  am  young,  strong,  happy  beyond 
words.  The  person  I  love  best  in  all  the  world,  has  just  given 
me  her  hand.  I  have  before  me  a  long  lite  of  joy,  if  I  only  live ! 
But  I  have  sworn  that  oatii,  Surry  !  Chambliss  kept  his;  shall  I 
break  mine?     Let  us  not  talk  further  of  this,  friend." 

And  Mohun  changed  the  conversation,  refusing  to  listen  to  my 
remonstrances. 

Half  an  hour  afterward  I  left  him,  with  a  strange  sinking  of 
the  heart. 

Taking  my  way  back  to  the  Court-House,  I  passed  through  the 
little  village,  rode  on  for  a  mile,  and  then,  overwhelmed  by  fa- 
tigue, lay  down  by  a  camp  fire  in  the  woods,  and  fell  asleep. 

I  was  waked  by  a  single  gun,  sending  its  dull  roar  through  the 
gray  dawn. 

Rising,  I  buttoned  my  cape  around  me,  mounted  my  horse,  and 
rode  toward  the  front. 

As  I  ascended  the  hill,  upon  wliich  stands  Appomattox  Court- 
House,  a  crimson  blush  suddenly  spread  itself  over  the  fields  and 
woods. 

I  looked  over  my  shoulder  In  the  east,  on  the  summit  of  the 
forest,  the  newly  risen  sun  was  poised,  like  a  great  shield  bathed 
in  blood. 


THE    LAST    CHARGE.  495 

Such  was  the  spectacle  which  ushered  in  the  ninth  of  April, 
,    1805,  at  Appomattox  Court-House. 


XXYIII. 

THE  LAST  CHARGE  OF  THE  OLD  GUARD. 

I  RODE  on  rapidly  to  the  front. 

It  was  the  morning  of  the  ninth  of  April,  1S65.  Since  that 
time  three  years,  day  for  day,  nearly  hour  for  hour  have  passed  ; 
for  these  lines  are  written  on  the  morning  of  the  ninth  of  April, 
1868. 

Gordon  had  formed  his  line  of  hattle  across  the  road  just  be- 
yond the  court-house — and  supported  by  Fitzhugh  Lee's  cavalry, 
and  Carter's  artillery  on  his  right,  was. advancing  with  measured 
steps  to  break  through  the  enemy. 

It  was  a  spectacle  to  make  the  pulse  throb.  The  little  handful 
was  going  to  death  unmoved.  The  red  light  of  morning  darted 
from  the  burnished  gun-barrels  of  the  infantry,  the  sabres  of  the 
cavalry,  and  the  grim  cannon  following,  in  sombre  lightnings. 

Gordon,  the  "Bayard  of  the  array,"  was  riding  in  front  of  his 
line.  The  hour  and  the  men  had  both  come.  Steadily  the  old 
guard  of  the  army  of  Northern  Virginia  advanced  to  its  last  field 
of  battle. 

Suddenly,  in  front  of  them,  the  woods  swarmed  with  the  ene- 
my's infantry,  cavalry,  and  artillery.  The  great  multitude  had  evi- 
dently employed  the  hours  of  night  well.  Grant's  entire  army 
seemed  to  have  massed  itself  in  Gordon's  front. 

But  the  force  was  not  the  question,  Gordon's  one  thousand 
six  hundred  men  were  in  motion.  And  when  Gordon  moved  for- 
ward he  always  fought,  if  he  fonnd  an  enemy. 

In  five  minutes  the  opponents  had  closed  in,  in  stnbborn  fight, 
and  the  woods  roared  with  m.usketry,  cannon,  and  carbines. 


490  MOnUN. 

Then  a  resounding  cLeer  rose.  The  enemy  had  recoiled  before 
Gordon,  and  lie  pressed  forward,  sweeping  every  thing  in  his 
path  for  nearly  a  mile  beyond  the  court-house. 

On  his  right  Fitzhugh  Lee's  horsemen  thundered  forward  on 
the  retiring  enemy ;  and  Carter's  guns  advanced  at  a  gallop,  taking 
I)ositions — Starke  to  the  left  and  Poague  to  the  right  of  the  road 
— from  which  they  opened  a  rapid  fire  upon  the  Federal  line  of 
battle. 

I  had  accompanied  the  advance,  and  looked  on  with  positive 
wonder.  A  miracle  seemed  about  to  be  enacted  before  my  very 
eyes.  Gordon's  poor  little  skirmish-line  of  less  than  two  thou- 
sand men,  with  the  half-equipped  horsemen  of  Fitzhugh  Lee,  on 
their  broken-down  animals,  seemed  about  to  drive  back  the  whole 
Federal  army,  and  cut  their  way  through  in  safety. 

Alas  !  the  hope  was  vain.  In  front  of  the  handful  were  eighty 
thousand  men  !  It  was  not  Sheridan's  cavalry  only — that  would 
have  speedily  been  disposed  of.  During  the  night.  General  Grant's 
best  infantry  had  pressed  forward,  and  arrived  in  time  to  place 
itself  across  Lee's  path.  What  Gordon  and  Fitzhugh  Lee  encoun- 
tered was  the  Federal  army. 

Eight  and  left,  as  in  front,  were  seen  dense  blue  columns  of 
infantry,  heavy  masses  of  cavalry,  crowding  batteries,  from 
which  issued  at  every  instant  that  quick  glare  whicli  precedes  the 
shell. 

From  this  multitude  a  great  shout  arose;  and  was  taken  up  by 
the  Federal  troops  for  miles.  From  the  extreme  rear,  where 
Longstreet  stood  stubbornly  confronting  the  pursuers,  as  from  the 
front,  where  Gordon  was  trying  to  break  through  the  immense 
obstacles  in  his  path,  came  that  thunder  of  cheers,  indicating 
clearly  that  the  enemy  at  last  felt  that  their  prey  was  in  their 
slutch. 

The  recoil  was  brief.  The  great  Federal  wave  which  had  rolled 
backward  before  Gordon,  now  rolled  forward  to  engulf  him. 
Tlie  moment  seemed  to  have  come  for  the  old  suard  of  the  armv 
of  Northern  Virginia  to  crown  its  victories  with  a  glorious  death. 

The  Federal  line  rushed  on.  From  end  to  end  of  the  great 
field,  broken  by  woods,  the  blue  infantry  delivered  their  fire,  as 
they  advanced  with  wild  cheers  upon  the  line  of  Gordon  and  Lee. 


THE    LAST    CHARGE 


497 


The  gnns  of  Carter  tlmudered  in  vain.  Never  were  cannon 
fought  more  superbly ;  the  enemy  were  now  nearly  at  the  muz- 
zles of  the  pieces. 

Gordon  was  everyv\'here  encouragiag  his  men,  and  attempting 
to  hold  them  steady.  With  flaming  eyes,  his  drawn  sword  wavt 
ing  amid  the  smoke,  his  strident  voice  rising  above  the  din  of  bat- 
tle,    Gordon  was  superb. 

But  all  was  of  no  avail.  The  Federal  line  came  on  like  a  wave 
of  steel  and  fire.  A  long  deafening  crash,  mingled  with  the  thun- 
der of  cannon,  stunned  the  ear  ;  above  the  combatants  rose  u 
huge  smoke-cloud,  from  which  issued  cheers  and  groans. 

Suddenly  an  officer  of  General  Lee's  staff  passed  by  like  light- 
ning; was  lost  in  the  smoke;  then  I  saw  him  speaking  to  Gordon. 
At  the  few  words  uttered  by  the  officer,  the  latter  turned  pale. 

A  moment  afterward  a  white  flag  fluttered— the  order  to  sur- 
render had  come. 

What  I  felt  at   that  instant  I  can  not  describe.     Something 
seemed  to  choke  me.     I  groaned  aloud,  and  turned  toward  the    ' 
cavalry. 

At  fifty  paces  from  me  I  saw  Mordaunt,  surrounded  by  his 
officers  and  men. 

His  swarthy  face  glowed— his  eyes  blazed.  Near  him,  General 
Fitzhugh  Lee— with  Tom  Herbert,  and  some  other  members  of 
his  staff— was  sitting  his  horse,  pale  and  silent. 

"What  will  you  do,  general?"  said  Mordaunt,  saluting  with 
drawn  sabre. 

Fitzhugh  Lee  uttered  a  groan. 

'•  I  don't  wish  to  be  included  in  the  surrender,"  he  said.  "  Oome, 
let  s  go.     General  Lee  no  longer  requires  my  poor  services !"  * 

Mordaunt  salated  again,  as  General  Lee  and  his  staff  officers 
turned  away. 

"  We'll  go  out  sword  in  hand !"  Atordaunt  said.  "  Let  who  will 
follow  me!"  ' 

A  wild  cheer  greeted  the  words.  The  men  formed  column 
and  charged. 

As  they  moved,  a  second  cheer  was  heai-d  at  fifty  paces  from 

*  His  words. 


498  MOnUN. 

Bs.     I  turned  my  head,  and  saw  Moliun,  in  front  of  about  fifty 
cavalrymen,  among  wliom  I  recognized  Xighthawk. 

In  an  instant  I  was  at  Molinn's  side. 

"You  are  going  to  cliarge!''  1  said. 

"And  die,  Surry!     A  gentleman  gives  liis  word  but  once!" 

And,  following  Mordaunt  with  long  leaps,  Mohun  and  his  horse- 
men burst  upon  the  enemy. 

Then  was  presented  a  spectacle  which  made  the  two  armies 
hold  their  breath. 

The  column  of  cavalry  under  Mordaunt  and  Mohun,  had  struck 
the  Federal  line  of  battle. 

For  an  instant,  you  could  see  little,  hear  little,  in  the  smoke 
and  uproar.  A  furious  volley  unhorsed  at  least  half  of  the 
charging  column,  and  the  rest  were  seen  striking  with  their 
sabres  at  the  blue  infantry,  who  stabbed  with  their  bayonets  at  the 
rearing  horses. 

Then  a  thundering  shout  rose.  The  smoke  was  swept  away  by 
the  wind,  and  made  all  clear. 

Mordaunt  had  cut  his  way  through,  and  was  seen  to  disappear 
with  a  dozen  followers. 

Mohun,  shot  through  the  breast,  and  streaming  with  blood, 
had  fallen  from  the  saddle,  his  foot  had  caught  in  the  stirrup,  and 
he  was  dragged  by  his  frightened  animal  toward  the  Confederate 
lines. 

The  horse  came  on  at  a  headlong  gallop,  but  suddenly  a  cava- 
lier came  up  with  him,  seized  the  bridle,  and  threw  him  violently 
on  his  haunches. 

The  new-comer  was  Nighthawk. 

Leaping  to  the  ground,  he  seized  the  body  of  Mohun  in  his 
arms,  extricated  his  foot  from  the  stirrup,  and  remounted  his  own 
horse,  with  the  form  of  his  master  still  clasped  to  his  breast 

Then,  plunging  the  spurs  into  his  animal,  he  turned  to  fly. 
But  his  last  hour  havl  come. 

A  bullet,  fired  at  fifty  paces,  penetrated  his  back,  and  the  blood 
spouted.  He  fell  from  the  flying  animal  to  the  earth,  but  his 
arms  still  clasped  the  body  of  Mohun,  whose  head  lay  upon  his 
breast. 

A  loud  cheer  rose,  and  the  blue  line  rushed  straight  upon  him. 


THE    SUERENDER.  49^ 

NighthaAvk's  head  rose,  and  he  gazed  at  them  with  flasliing  eyes 
— then  he  looked  at  Mohun  and  groaned. 

Summoning  his  last  remains  of  strength,  he  drew  from  liis 
breast  a  pencil  and  a  piece  of  paper,  wrote  some  words  upon  tlie 
paper,  and  affixed  it  to  Mohun's  breast. 

This  seemed  to  exhaust  him.  lie  had  scarcely  finished,  when 
his  head  sank,  his  shoulders  drooped,  and  falling  forward  on  the 
breast  of  Mohun,  he  expired. 

An  hour  afterward,  all  was  still.  On  the  summit  of  the  Court- 
House  hill  a  blue  column  was  stationary,  waving  a  large  white 
flag. 

General  Lee  had  surrendered. 


XXIX. 

THE   SURPwEXDER. 


Lee  had  surrendered  the  army  of  Northern  Virginia. 

Ask  old  soldiers  of  that  army  to  describe  their  feelings  at  the 
announcement,  reader.  They  will  tell  you  that  they  can  not ;  and 
I  will  not  attempt  to  record  my  own. 

It  was,  truly,  the  bitterness  of  death  that  we  tasted  at  ten 
o'clock  on  the  morning  of  that  ninth  of  April,  1865,  at  Appomat- 
tox Court-House.  Gray-haired  soldiers  cried  like  children.  It 
was  hard  to  say  whether  they  would  have  preferred,  at  that  mo- 
ment, to  return  to  their  families  or  to  throw  themselves  upon  the 
bayonets  of  the  enemy,  and  die.    ,^ 

In  that  hour  of  their  agony  they  were  not  insulted,  however. 
The  deportment  of  the  enemy  was  chivalric  and  courteous.  Js"o 
bands  played  ;  no  cheers  were  heard  ;  and  General  Grant  was 
the  first  to  salute  profoundly  his  gray-haired  adversary,  who 
came,  with  a  single  officer,  to  arrange,  in  a  house  near  the  field, 
the  terms  of  surrender. 


500  MOHUN. 

They  are  known.     On  tlie  tenth  they  were  carried  out. 
The  men  stacked  the  old  muskets,  which  they  liad  carried  in  a 
liundred  fights,  surrendered   the  bullet-torn   colors,   which   had 
waved  over  victorious  fields,  aud  silently  returned,  like  raouruers, 
to  their  desolate  homes. 

Two  days  after  the  surrender,  Mohun  was  still  alive. 
Three  months  afterward,  the  welcome  intelligence  reached  me 
that  he  was  rapidly  recovering. 

He  had  made  a  narrow  escape.  Ten  minutes  after  the  death 
of  the  faithful  Nighthawk,  the  Federal  line  had  swept  over  him  ; 
and  such  was  the  agony  of  his  wound,  that  he  exclaimed  to  one 
of  the  enemv  : — 

"  Take  your  pistol,  and  shoot  me!" 

The  man  cocked  his  weapon,  and  aimed  at  his  heart.  Then  he 
turned  the  muzzle  aside,  aud  uncocking  the  pistol,  replaced  it  in 
its  holster. 

"No,"  he  said,  "Johnny  Reb,  you  might  get  well!"t 
And  glancing  at  the  paper  on  Mohun's  breast,  he  passed  on, 
muttering  — 

"  It's  a  general!" 

The  paper  saved  Mohun's  life.  An  acquaintance  in  the  Federal 
army  saw  it,  and  speedily  had  him  c'ared  for.  An  hour  after- 
ward his  friends  were  informed  of  his  whereabouts.  I  hastened 
to  the  house  to  which  he  had  been  borne.  Bending  over  him,  the 
beautiful  Georgia  was  sobbing  hopelessly,  and  dropping  tears 
upon  the  paper,  which  contained  the  words — 

"  This  is  the  hody  of  General  Mohun^  C.  S.  ^." 

The  army  had  surrendered ;  the  flag  was  lowered  :  with  a  sin- 
gular feeling  of  bewilderment,  and  a  "lost"  feeling  that  is  inde- 
scribable, I  set  out,  followed  by  my  servant,  for  Eagle's  Nest. 

I  was  the  possessor  of  a  paper,  which  I  still  keep  as  a  strange 
memorial. 

"  The  bearer,"  ran  this  paper,  "  a  paroled  prisoner  of  the  army 
of  Northern  Virginia,  has  permission  to  go  to  his  home,  and  tiiere 
remain  undisturbed — with  two  horses!" 

At  the  top  of  this  document  was,  "  Appomattox  Court-Honse, 

t  'Hiesc  details  are  all  real. 


THE    SURPwEXDER.  ^        501 

Va.,  April,  10,  1865."    On  the  left-hand  side  ^yas,  "  Paroled  Pris- 
oner's Pass." 

So,  with  his  pass,  the  paroled  prisoner  passed  slowly  across 
Virginia  to  his  home. 

Oh!  that  Virginia  of  1865 — that  desolate,  dreary  land!  Oh  ! 
those  poor,  sad  soldiers  returning  to  their  homes  !  Everywhere 
burned  houses,  unfenced  fields,  ruined  homesteads !  On  all  sides, 
the  desolation  of  the  torch  and  the  sword!  The  "poor  paroled 
prisoners,"  going  home  wearily  in  that  dark  April,  felt  a  pang 
which  only  a  very  bitter  foe  will  laugh  at. 

But  all  was  not  taken.  Honor  was  left  us — and  the  angels  of 
home  !  As  the  sorrowful  survivors  of  the  great  army  came  back, 
as  they  reached  their  old  homes,  dragging  their  weary  feet  after 
them,  or  urging  on  their  jaded  horses,  suddenly  the  sunshine  burst 
forth  for  them,  and  lit  up  their  rags  with  a  sort  of  glory.  The 
wife,  the  mother,  and  the  little  child  rushed  to  them.  Hearts  beat 
fast,  as  the  gray  uniforms  were  clasped  in  a  long  embrace  Those 
angels  of  home  loved  the  poor  prisoners  better  in  their  dark  days 
than  in  their  bright.  The  fond  eyes  melted  to  tears,  the  white  arms 
held  them  close ;  and  the  old  soldiers,  who  had  only  laughed  at 
the  roar  of  the  enemy's  guns,  dropped  tears  on  the  faces  of  their 
wives  and  little  children ! 


EPILOGUE. 


In  the  autumn  of  last  year,  1S67, 1  set  out  on  horseback  from 
"Eagle's  Nest,"  and  following  the  route  west  by  Fredericksburg, 
Chancellorsville,  Germanna  Ford,  Culpeper,  and  Orleans,  reached 
"  The  Oaks"  in  Fauquier. 

I  needed  the  sunshine  and  bright  faces  of  the  old  homestead, 
after  that  journey ;  for  at  every  step  had  sprung  up  some  gloomy 
or  exciting  recollection. 

It  was  a  veritable  journey  through  the  world  of  memory. 

Fredericksburg !  Chancellorsville  !  the  Wilderness  I  the  plains 
of  Culpeper  I — as  I  rode  on  amid  these  historic  scenes,  a  thousand 
memories  came  to  knock  at  the  door  of  my  heart.  Some  were 
gay,  if  many  were  sorrowful — laughter  mingled  with  the  sighs. 
But  to  return  to  the  past  is  nearly  always  sad.  As  I  rode 
through  the  waste  laud  now,  it  was  with  drooping  head.  All 
the  old  days  came  back  again,  the  cannon  sent  their  long  dull 
thunder  through  the  forests ;  again  the  gray  and  blue  lines  closed 
in,  and  hurled  together ;  again  Jackson  in  his  old  dingy  coat, 
Stuart  with  his  floating  plume,  Pelham,  Farley,  all  whom  I  had 
known,  loved,  and  still  mourned,  rose  before  me — a  line  of  august 
phantoms  lading  away  into  the  night  of  the  past. 

Once  more  I  looked  upon  Pelham,  holding  in  his  arms  the 
bleeding  form  of  Jean — passing  "  Can)p-no-camp,"  only  a  desolate 
and  dreary  field  now,  all  the  laughinu  faces  and  brave  forms  of 
Stuart  and  ^lis  men  returned — in  the  "Wilderness  I  saw  Jackson 
fight  and  fall;  sa^w  him  borne  through  the  moonlight;  heard  his 
sighs  and  his  last  greeting  with  Stuart.  A  step  farther,  I  passed 
the  lonely  old  house  in  the  Wilderness,  and  all  the  strange  and 
sorabre  scenes  there  surged  up  from  the  shadows  of  the  past. 


EPILOGUE.  503 

Mordaunt,  Achmed,  Fenwick,  Yiolet  Grafton  ! — all  reappeared, 
playing  over  again  their  fierce  tragedy ;  and  to  this  was  added 
that  fiercer  drama  of  May,  1S64,  when  General  Grant  invented 
the  "  Unseen  Death." 

Thus  the  journey  which  I  made  through  the  bare  and  deserted 
fields,  or  the  mournful  thickets,  was  not  gay ;  and  these  were 
only  a  part  of  the  panorama  which  passed  before  me.  Looking 
toward  the  south,  I  saw  as  clearly  with  the  eyes  of  the  memory, 
the  banks  of  the  Po,  the  swamps  of  the  Chickahoniiny,  the 
trenches  at  Petersburg,  the  woods  of  Dinwiddle,  Five  Forks, 
Higlibridge — Appomatox  Court-House!  Nearer  was  Yellow  Tav- 
ern, whei'e  Stuart  had  fallen.  Not  a  foot  of  this  soil  of  Old  Vir- 
ginia but  seemed  to  have  been  the  scene  of  some  fierce  battle, 
some  sombre  tragedv! 

"  Well,  well,"  I  sighed,  as  I  rode  on  toward  the  Oaks,  "all  that 
is  buried  in  the  past,  and  it  is  useless  to  think  of  it.  I  am  only  a 
poor  paroled  prisoner,  wearing  arms  no  more — let  me  forget  the 
red  cross  flag  which  used  to  float  so  proudly  here,  and  bow  my 
head  to  the  will  of  the  Supreme  Euler  of  all  worlds." 

So  I  went  on,  and  in  due  time  reached  the  Oaks,  in  Fauquier. 

You  recall  the  good  old  homestead,  do  you  not,  my  dear 
reader?  I  should  be  sorry  to  have  you  forget  the  spot  where  I 
have  been  so  happy.  It  was  to  this  honest  old  mansion  that  I 
was  conducted  in  April,  1861,  when  struck  from  ray  horse  by  a 
falling  limb  in  the  storm-lashed  wood,  I  saw  come  to  my  succor 
the  dearest  person  in  the  world.  She  awaited  me  now — having 
a  month  before  left  Eagle's  Nest,  to  pay  a  visit  to  her  family — 
and  again,  as  in  the  spring  of  '63,  she  came  to  meet  me  as  I 
ascended  the  hill — only  we  met  now  as  bridegroom  and  bride  ! 

This  May  of  my  life  had  brought  back  the  sunshine,  even  after 
that  black  day  of  18G5.  Two  white  arms  had  met  the  poor 
paroled  prisoner,  on  his  return  to  Eagle's  Nest — a  pair  of  violet 
eyes  had  filled  with  happy  tears — and  the  red  lips,  smiling  with 
exquisite  emotion,  murmured  "  All  is  well,  since  yod  have  com© 
back  to  me !" 

It  was  this  beautiful  head  which  the  sunshine  of  that  autumn 
of  1867  revealed  to  me,  on  the  lawn  of  the  good  old  chateau  of 
the  mountains  I  And  behind,  came  all  my  good  friends  of  the  Oaks 


\ 


504:  M  0  H  U  K 

— the  kind  lady  of  the  manor,  the  old  colonel,  and  Charley  and 
Annie,  who  were  there  too !  With  his  long  gray  hair,  and  eyes 
that  still  fiashed,  Colonel  Beverly  came  to  meet  me — brave  and 
smiling  in  1867  as  he  had  been  in  1861.  Then,  with  Annie's  arm 
around  me— that  little  sister  had  grown  astonishingly! — I  went 
in  and  was  at  home. 

At  home!  You  must  be  a  soldier  to  know  what  that  simple 
word- means,  reader!  You  must  sleep  under  a  tree,  carry  your 
effects  behind  your  saddle,  lie  down  in  bivouac  in  strange 
countries,  and  feel  the  longing  of  the  heart  for  the  dear  faces, 
the  old  scenes. 

"  Tell  my  mother  that  I  die  in  a  foreign  land !"  murmured  my 
poor  dear  Tazewell  Patton,  at  Gettysburg,  I  have  often  thought 
of  those  words;  and  they  express  much  I  think.  Oh!  for  home! 
for  a  glimpse,  if  no  more,  of  the  fond  faces,  as  life  goes !  You 
may  be  the  bravest  of  the  brave,  as  my  dear  Tazewell  was ;  but 
'tis  home  where  the  heart  is,  and  you  sigh  for  the  dear  old  land ! 

The  Oaks  was  like  home  to  me,  for  the  somebody  with  violet 
eyes,  and  chestnut  hair,  was  here  to  greet  me. 

The  sun  is  setting,  and  we  wander  in  the  fields  touched  by  the 
dreamy  autumn. 

"  Look,"  says  the  somebody  who  holds  my  hand,  and  smiles, 
"there  is  the  rock  where  we  stopped  in  the  autumn  of  1862,  and 
where  you  behaved  with  so  little  propriety,  you  remember,  sir !" 

"  I  remember  the  rock  but  not  the  absence  of  propriety.  What 
were  a  man's  arms  made  for  but  to  clasp  the  woman  he  loves !" 

"  Stop,  sir  !  People  would  think  we  were  two  foolish  young 
lovers." 

"  Young  lovers  are  not  foolish,  madam.  They  are  extremely 
intelligent." 

Madam  laughs. 

"  Yonder  is  the  primrose  from  which  I  plucked  the  bud,"  she 
says. 

"That  sent  me  through  Stuart's  head-quarters  in  April,  1863  ?" 
I  say. 

"  Yes;  you  have  not  forgotten  it  I  hope." 

"Almost;  Stay!  I  think  it  meant  "Come,"— did  it  not? — 
And  you  sent  it  to  mel" 


EPILOGUE.  505 

Madam  pouts  beautifully. 

"You  have  'almost  forgotten'  it!     Have  you,  indeer],  sir?" 

"  These  trifles  will  escape  us." 

May  loses  all  her  smiles,  and  her  head  sinks. 

I  begin  to  laugh,  taking  an  old  porte-monnaie  from  my  pocket. 
There  is  very  little  money  in  it,  but  a  number  of  worn  papers,  ray 
parole  and  others.  I  take  one  and  open  it.  It  contains  a  fiided 
primrose. 

"  Look !"  I  say,  with  a  smile,  "  it  said  '  Come,'  once,  and  it  brings 
me  back  again  to  the  dearest  girl  in  the  world !" 

A  tear  falls  from  the  violet  eyes  upon  the  faded  flower,  but 
through  the  tears  burst  a  smile  ! 

They  are  curious,  these  earthly  angels — are  they  not,  my  dear 
reader  ?  "They  are  romantic  and  sentimental  to  the  last,  and  this 
old  soldier  admires  them  ! 

So,  conversing  of  a  thousand  things,  we  return  to  the  Oaks, 
wandering  like  boy  and  girl  through  the  "  happy  autumn  fields." 
May  Surry  flits  t?irough  the  old  doorway  and  disappears. 

As  she  goes  the  sun  sinks  behind  the  forest.  But  it  will  rise, 
as  she  will,  to-morrow  ! 

The  smiling  Colonel  Beverley  meets  me  on  the  threshold,  with 
a  note  in  his  hand. 

"A  servant  has  just  brought  this,"  he  says,  "it  is  from  your 
friend,  Mordaunt." 

I  opened  the  note  and  read  the  following  words  : — 

"J/y  dear  Surry  : — 

"  I  send  this  note  to  await  your  appearance  at  the  Oaks.     Come 

and  see  me.     Some  old  friends  will  give  you  a  cordial  greeting, 

in  addition  to 

"  Your  comrade, 

"MOEDAUXT." 

I  had  intended  visiting  Mordaunt  in  a  day  or  two  after  my  ar- 
rival. On  the  very  next  morning  I  mounted  my  horse,  and  set 
out  for  the  house  in  the  mountain,  anxious  to  ascertain  who  the 
"  old  friends  "  were,  to  whom  he  alluded. 

In  an  hour  I  had  come  within  sight  of  Mordaunt's  mansion. 


506  MOHUN. 

Passing  througli  ths  great  gate,  I  rode  on  between  the  two  row3 
of  magnificent  trees;  approached  the  low  mansion  with  it3  ex- 
tensive wings,  overshadowed  by  tlie  liuge  black  oaks ;  dismounted  ; 
raised  the  heavy  bronze  knocker,  carved  like  the  frowning  mask 
of  the  old  tragedians ;  and  letting  it  fall  sent  a  peal  of  low  thunder 
through  the  mansion. 

Mordaunt  appeared  in  a  few  moments;  and  behind  him  came 
dear  Violet  Grafton,  as  I  will  still  call  her,  smiling.  Mordaunt's 
face  glowed  with  pleasure,  and  the  gf;isp  of  his  strong  hand  was 
like  a  vice.  He  was  unchanged,  except  that  he  wore  a  suit  of 
plain  gray  cloth.  His  statuesque  head,  witli  the  long  black  beard 
and  mustache,  the  sparkling  eyes,  and  cheeks  tanned  by  exposure 
to  the  sun  and  wind,  rose  as  proudly  as  on  that  morning  in  1865, 
when  he  had  charged  and  cut  through  the  enemy  at  Appomattox. 

Violet  was  Violet  still !  The  beautiful  tr.-mquil  face  still  smiled 
"with  its  calm  sweetness;  the  lips  had  still  that  expression  of  infan- 
tile innocence.  The  blue  eves  still  looked  forth  from  the  shower 
of  golden  ringlets  which  had  struck  me  when  I  first  met  her 
in  the  lonely  house  in  the  "Wilderness,  in  the  gay  mouth  of 
April,  1861. 

I  had  shaken  hands  with  Mordaunt,  but  I  advanced  and  "  sa- 
luted'' madam,  and  the  cheek  was  suddenly  filled  with  cxquisitj 
roses. 

"  For  old  times'  sake,  madam  !" 

"  Which  are  the  best  of  all  possible  times,  Surry  I"  said  Mor- 
daunt, laughing. 

And  he  led  the  way  into  the  great  apartment,  hung  round  with 
portraits,  where  we  had  supped  on  the  night  of  Pelham's  hard 
fight  at  Barbee's,  after  Sharpsburg. 

"You  remember  this  room,  do  you  not,  ray  dear  Surry?''  said 
Mordaunt.  "  It  escaped  during  the  war  ;  though  you  see  that  my 
poor  little  grandmother,  the  child  of  sixteen  there,  with  the  curls 
and  laces,  received  a  sabre  thrust  in  the  neck.  But  you  are  look- 
ing round  for  the  friends  I  promised.  They  were  here  a  moment 
since,  and  only  retired  to  give  you  a  surprise. 

See !  here  they  are  !" 

The  door  opened,  and  I  saw  enter — Mohun  and  Landon  ! 

In  an  instant  I  had  grasped  the  hands  of  these  dear  friends ; 


EPILOGUE.  507 

and  they  had  explained  their  presence.  Mohun  had  come  to 
make  a  visit  to  Mordaunt,  and  had  prolonged  his  stay  in  order  to 
meet  Hie.  Then  Mordaunt  had  written  to  Landon,  at  "Bizarre," 
jnst  over  the  mountain,  to  come  and  complete  the  party— he  had 
promptly  arrived — and  I  found  myself  in  presence  of  three  old 
comrades,  any  one  of  whom  it  would  have  been  a  rare  pleasure 
to  have  met. 

Mohun  and  Landon  were  as  unchanged  as  Mordaunt.  I  saw 
the  same  proud  and  loyal  faces,  listened  to  the  same  frank 
brave  voices,  touched  the  same  firm  hands.  They  no  longer 
wore  uniforms — that  was  the  whole  difference.  Under  the  black 
coats  beat  the  same  hearts  which  had  throbbed  beneath  the  gray. 

I  spent  the  whole  day  with  Moydaunt.  After  dinner  he  led  the 
way  into  the  room  on  the  right  of  the  entrance — that  singular 
apartment  into  which  I  had  been  shown  by  accident  on  my  first 
visit  to  hira,  and  where  afterward  I  witnessed  the  test  of  poor 
Achmed's  love.  The  apartment  was  unchanged.  The  floor  was 
still  covred  with  the  rich  furs  of  lions,  tigers,  and  leopards — the 
agate  eyes  still  glared  at  me,  and  the  grinning  teeth  seemed  to 
utter  growls  or  snarls.  On  the  walls  I  saw  still  the  large  collec- 
tion of  books  in  every  language — the  hunting  and  battle  pictures 
Avhich  I  had  before  so  greatly  admired — the  strange  array  of  out- 
landish arms — and  over  the  mantel-piece  still  hung  the  portrait 
of  Violet  Grafton. 

Seated  in  front  of  a  cheerful  blaze,  we  smoked  and  talked — • 
Mordaunt,  Mohun,  Landon,  and  myself — until  the  shades  of  even- 
ing drew  on. 

Landon  told  me  of  his  life  at  "  Bizarre,"  near  the  little  village 
of  Millwood,  through  which  we  had  marched  that  night  to  bury 
his  dead  at  the  old  chapel,  and  where  he  had  surrendered  in 
April,  1865.  Arden  and  Annie  lived  near  him,  and  were  happy  : 
and  if  I  would  come  to  "  Bizarre,"  he  would  sliow  me  the  young 
lady  whom  I  had  carried  off^,  that  night,  from  the  chapel  grave- 
yard, on  the  croup  of  my  saddle  ! 

Landon  laughed.  His  face  was  charming  ;  it  was  easy  to  see 
that  he  was  happy.  To  understand  how  that  expression  con- 
trasted with  his  former  appearance,  the  worthy  reader  must 
peruse  ray  episodical  memoir,  Hilt  to  Hilt. 


508  MOHUN 

Molmn's  face  was  no  less  smiling.  lie  had  lost  every  trace  of 
gloom. 

He  gave  me  intelligence  of  all  my  old  friends.  General  Dave- 
nant  and  Judge  Conway  had  become  close  friends  again.  "Will 
and  Virginia  were  married.  Charley  was  cultivating  a  mustache 
and  speculating  upon  a  new  revolution.  Tom  Herbert  and  Katy 
were  on  a  visit  to  "  Disaways." 

"  Poor  Niglithawk  is  the  only  one  whom  I  miss,  ray  dear  Snrry," 
said  Mohun.  *'  He  died  trying  to  save  me,  and  I  have  had  his  body 
taken  to  Fonthill,  where  it  is  buried   in  the  family  graveyard." 

"  He  was  a  faithful  friend ;  and  to  be  killed  on  that  very  last 
morning  was  hard.  But  many  were.  Tou  had  a  narrow  escape, 
Mohun." 

"Yes,  and  was  only  preserved  by  a  Bible." 

"A  Bible?" 

"  Do  you  remember  that  I  was  reading  by  the  camp  fire,  when 
you  came  to  visit  me  on  the  night  preceding  the  surrender  ?" 

"  Yes — in  vour  wife's  Bible." 

"  Well,  my  dear  Surry,  when  I  had  finished  reading,  I  placed 
the  volume  in  my  breast,  as  nsual.  "When  I  was  shot,  on  the 
next  morning,  the  bullet  struck  the  book  and  glanced.  Had  the 
Bible  not  been  there,  that  bullet  would  have  pierced  my  heart. 
As  it  was,  it  only  wounded  me  in  the  breast.  Here  is  my  old 
Bible — I  carry  it  about  me  still." 

As  he  spoke,  Mohun  drew  fj-om  his  breast  the  small  leather- 
bound  volume,  in  the  cover  of  which  was  visible  a  deep  gash. 

He  looked  at  it  with  a  smile,  and  said : — 

''  This  book  has  been  the  salvation  of  my  body  and  soul,  Surry. 
I  was  haughty  and  a  man-hater  once — now  I  try  to  be  humble. 
I  had  no  hope  once,  now  I  am  happy.  I  have  one  other  sou- 
venir of  that  memorable  day  at  Appomattox — this  scrap  of  paper 
between  the  leaves  of  my  old  Bible." 

He  drew  out  the  scrap,  which  was  dirty  and  discolored  with 
blood. 

Upon  it  was  written  in  pencil,  the  words  : — 

"  This  is  the  body  of  General  Mohun,  C.  S.  A." 

As  Mohun  pointed  to  it,  a  ray  of  sunset  shot  athwart  the  forest, 
and  fell  on  his  serene  features,  lighting  them  up  with  a  sort  of 


EPILOGUE.  509 

giorj.  The  clear  eyes  gave  back  the  ray,  and  there  was  some- 
thing exquisitely  soft  in  them.  Mordaunt  and  Landon  too, 
were  bathed  in  that  crimson  light  of  evening,  disappearing  be- 
yond the  shaggy  crest  of  the  Blue  Ridge— and  I  thought  I  saw 
on  their  proud  foces  the  same  expression. 

"These  tliree  men  are  happy,"  I  thought.  "Their  lot  has 
been  strange;  they  have  been  nearly  lost;  but  heaven  has  sent 
to  each  an  angel,  to  bring  back  hope  to  them.  Ellen  Adair, 
Georgia  Conway,  Violet  Grafton—these  fond  hearts  have  changed 
your  lives,  Landon,  Mohun,  and  Mor.daunt!" 
In  an  hour  I  was  at  the  "  Oaks." 

A  month  afterward,  I  had  returned  to  "Eagle's  :N"est." 
And  in  this  April,  1868,  when  the  flowers  are  blooming,  and 
the  sun  is  shining— when  a  pair  of  violet  eyes  make  the  sunshine 
Btill  brighter— I  end  the  last  volume  of  my  memoirs. 


THE    EXD. 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 


Wilmer 
261 


^:M 


\. ■>:<€•.  .*»S'' 


r.^^ 


.^,m.mk 


.yiltA 


PJnT-  ..   .■•■■•     ,. 


FOR  SALE  BY 


WHO    HAS    THK 

LARGEST  AND  CHEAPEST 

STOCK    OF 

Books,  Stationery  and  Music 

IN   THE   STATE. 


